Ministry

I signed up at church to help with one of our coffee bars and I'm beginning to think I actually signed up for some sort of 'strength ministry'. Who knew that pump pots of drip coffee would require so much upper arm strength? I kid you not when I say that my left arm feels like someone took a meat tenderizer to it and all my job consisted of was filling the cups with coffee. 

At one point a man in line, noticing my extreme discomfort and inability to get a measly stream of coffee out, suggested I try using my right arm. I politely rebuffed his suggestion pointing out that if he thought I was having problems with my dominant arm, there was sure to be a catastrophe if I enlisted the service of my right arm. I may practice my handwriting on a regular basis with my right hand* but I sure as heck haven't ever practiced proper pump pot form. 

I'm planning on hitting the gym tomorrow night and along with my miles on the dreadmill** I'll be adding some upper body conditioning... at least for my left arm.

*Somewhere in my childhood I decided I'd better be prepared should I ever lose the ability to write with my left hand so I started practicing with my right hand. It's not that pretty but it works and I think I could get by... as long as people don't mind reading severely slanted sentences. Like 45 degrees slanted.

**I don't really dread running on the treadmill all that much... I just like to say I do. It's my 'woe is me' moment. Please let me have it.

365 days

On the phone planning our first date I asked "Where should we go? What should we do?" and he said "Let's go get corn dogs at the gas station*..."

It's been an adventure ever since.

*He really did say that and I laughed, hoping he was only half-serious (but not really caring if he was completely serious) and then he said "Let's not plan anything, let's just be spontaneous." and I pretty much knew my life was about to change.

But it's on sale!

Sale items do funny things to me. I'll buy shoes that I don't need*, sweaters I probably won't wear, and justify any jewelry purchase** during a sale. I once ended up with a cupboard-full of garbonzo beans just because they were on sale. (Little side note here, I had a hard time remembering Almonzo's name from 'Little House On The Prairie' so in my head I always secretly called him Garbonzo. Half-Pint and Garbonzo... lots of protein there.)

Anyway, back to sales. I bring this subject up because I recently learned the power of a discounted item, albeit a 4,500 square foot discounted item. 

It kind of dwarfs the neighbors.

I'd seen this house a few times in the real estate section and wondered what in the world it was all about. 7 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms on 3 levels and it was CHEAP. Like, less than $200,000 cheap. That's a lot of house for not a lot of money. I sent an email to a family member/realtor letting her know that if she was ever in the neighborhood and wanted to check it out that I'd go along. She was game.

The address.

We went one evening after work and unfortunately, or fortunately because it let me dream for 24 hours, the power had been shut off. Since winter is rapidly approaching, daylight is a hard commodity to come by which meant we had approximately 12 minutes to run around the house and squint into the darkness to make out the shape of the rooms and the condition of the place. It was mah-ve-lous. (All pictures taken the following day).

The entry way and possible dining room we guessed.

The ceilings were high, the rooms were HUGE, and I started picking out paint colors, dreaming of wood floors, and deciding which wall the piano would go on. I envisioned family functions and family living with me... it does have 7 bedrooms after all. All of this in 12 minutes of dimly-lit exploration. We got really brave and headed to the third floor in the dark. Nothing like going into a 109-year old, vacant house and heading into the unknown. I did shout up to any squatters that might be residing there that we were on our way up and to please make themselves presentable.*** I hadn't even thought of the possibility that there may be ankle-biting vermin living up there or that maybe the floor wasn't in any condition to be walking on. I was busy dreaming!

One of the 4 booths on the third floor. There is also a bar on this floor....crazy prohibition parties were no doubt thrown here, or the squatters are very handy and into wood-working.

We called the selling agent to get a bit more information (semi short-sale house) and departed for the evening with a plan to meet the next day. I spent the rest of the night drawing the floor plan and trying to convince Craig that this would be a great investment with awesome returns in a few years.**** I laid awake far into the night calculating payments and how much plasma I'd have to donate to make it work. (5*)

The living room. I decided I'd put the Christmas tree in the front corner.

And then the morning came. I met Hilary at lunch with a thousand wheels in my head turning and the house was just as grand in the daylight but it was big... really big. Too big for a single-girl with cats, although it would give me room for more cats. Like a whole shelter-full. It would also, no doubt, give me the reputation as the crazy cat lady who lives alone in the biggest house on the block with her 43 cats. 

I'd be up to 3 the instant I moved in.

Kids would play 'Ding Dong Ditch' with my doorbell and claim they saw my silhouette in the third floor window. Not really the direction I'm looking to go in life. Moving on.

The doorbell.

In the daylight we also saw that this big old girl needed more than a few coats of paint and a ripping up of the old carpet to reveal the wood floors beneath. There was the question of the old furnace in the basement, the sloping of the kitchen floors, and the functionality of the goofy bathrooms. How much does it cost to heat 4500 square feet? Are those leaded windows very efficient? Most likely not. What happens if my cats get lost? Alright, enough cat talk. 

Like a slowly deflating balloon I saw just how much work it needed and just how much work I didn't want to put into it (not to mention the fact that I don't have THAT much plasma). For goodness sakes I hired my neighbor boy to mow my lawn this summer because I didn't want to do it. She's a beauty of a house and has been a part of our town's history since 1900. She's just not going to be a part of mine. Unless the price drops.

Detail of the little window in the front door. Perfect for spying on which hoodlums are ringing the doorbell and running away.

*Actually, this happens whether or not they're on sale.

**All jewelry purchases are justified as 'investments'.

***I also had a brief vision of someone hitting me in the face in the darkness of the attic but I think that comes from watching too many episodes of Law & Order.

****Or it could be a huge money pit but I'm more of an optimist.

5*That's not true, my parents wouldn't stand for it. They wouldn't go for it in college when I wanted a little extra spending money and no doubt their feelings haven't changed.

Opinions for sale

Early last week I got the surprise of a lifetime in my mailbox. Well, that's over-exaggerating because had I received the surprise of a lifetime people around the globe would have spent their days wondering how Gerard Butler made himself small enough to fit in a standard mailbox. Anway, it was mildly surprising only because I'd never been chosen before to participate in this well-known public survey... J.D. Power contacted me and wanted my opinion! They wanted my feedback on a car that I previously owned...

... back when I lived near the ocean, in a tropical location, and ran a party entertainment business out of my trunk.* I was the clown, Vera ran the music, and Rosemary made the balloon animals. It was a wildly-successful venture once Rosemary figured out how to retract her claws when working with the balloons. Until then it was just wild.

Truth be told, the survey was less about the custom-painted Toyota Camry** and more about the Audi A4 that I leased for 2 years. 

I answered the questions to the best of my knowledge but really, it's been a year since I had the car and my memory is foggy at best when it comes to the mileage the car had at the time of it's last oil change. I'm not sure I could tell you what my current car's mileage was at it's last oil change.

Anyway, the survey was 65 questions long and I hung in there for a good 13 of them. After that I started making designs with the fill-in circles. I hope the associates at J.D. Power take a good look at it when they get it back. It's very pretty.

You're probably wondering why I even completed the dang thing. I'll tell you why....folded up very nicely within the pages of it was an incredibly crisp $1 bill. I haven't seen bills this flat since I was 11 and spending my afternoons ironing the baby-sitting money*** that I kept stored in a Royal Dansk cookie tin.

*I have never run a business out of my trunk... not that I couldn't. Right now I could probably start a traveling bocce ball tournament that I announce with flyers printed out using an Epson printer. Really, I have those items in my trunk RIGHT NOW. Why? I don't know.

**That's because I've never owned a custom-painted Toyota Camry, as much as I've wanted to.

***It's 75% cotton you know. It irons very nicely on high.

Whoa! I just realized that this is my 200th post! What's even weirder is that my 100th post was also about the Audi. Hmmm.  I'm not quite sure what that means but I'm thinking I should get a subscription to Car & Driver if I'm writing about cars this much.

Goodbye Gibson

I'm guessing the Gibson has been a fixture of this home for at least 25 years. It's been a part of my life for 5 of those years. Not one to rush into a decision*, I finally decided to buy a new stove last week.

What was the turning point you ask? Well, it certainly wasn't the fact that the door didn't open all the way...I thought that was just part of the adventure. It wasn't the gross discrepancy between 'set temperature' and 'actual temperature'. Doesn't everyone have to set their oven a good 65 degrees below the temperature you're going for? 

The half an hour worth of pre-heating time wasn't too shabby as it allowed me to throw a load of laundry in or reroof the house. It definitely wasn't the unevenness of the burners on the top. Nope, all of the above were manageable.

The final straw was simply the style**. I'd had it up to 'here' with those cruddy knobs, the lack of window in the door, that dirty-white look that never came clean, and the tiny sparks that jumped off the element every time I cooked something (that is when I could get the door open).***

I headed down to the local big-box store, right across the street from the other local big-box store, and purchased the first white oven I saw that had everything I wanted.**** A door that opened, reliable temperature settings, even burners, and a window. Life is good.

*I can't think of a decision I haven't rushed into.

**Though that is partially true, the actual final straw was a very unevenly baked batch of cookies. An unsalvageable, unevenly-baked, batch of cookies. There were a lot of chocolate chips that went to waste that night and I'd rather not talk about it.

***I'm not joking about the sparks. They were little and sort of twinkly, like stars. I made a point to wish on the first one I saw each time I opened the door. Come to think of it though, I never did open the door to an oven full of cash.

****Like a total dimwit the first thing out of my mouth when the salesman asked me what features I was looking for, I said "color". Color?! I think I just set our sex back to the days when that Gibson was new. Sorry girls.

It makes for a better story

I crossed the mountains this weekend for a little open space. Alright, a lot of open space. In fact, I don't think there is anything but open space beyond the mountains.

The drive went well and was fairly uneventful. I had hoped to at least stop for a bathroom break but the rest stop was full. I pressed on.

The purpose of this weekend was of course to visit Craig and the family at the ranch but also to test the land-speed record of a 4-wheeler on the salt flats* of eastern Montana. It went well.

Alright not really, the goal of the weekend was moving the cattle. I missed the excitement of preg checking** on Thursday but I did make it for the brunch and all of the baby showers. 

I got to the gate in time to jump on the back of Craig's 4-wheeler and help move a small herd of Corrientes. I attempted to urge them along in Spanish but it seems that they've forgotten their roots.

We moved the mamas and the baby's just fine but it was apparent that the bull had moved on to greener pastures, also known as a neighboring field. I wish I had pictures, or better yet a video, of this section of the weekend but I was too busy watching my life pass before my eyes. Don't get me wrong, Craig did an excellent job of piloting the 4-wheeler with me and the dog on the back*** all the while chasing a bull whose plans for the day did not include moving pastures.

Craig dodged and chased and circled and pushed the bull, along with Tom and his dog Jetty (4*), and I quietly hung on for dear life. Quietly that is until I asked Craig, right in the heat of the battle, to let me off. To let me off in the middle of a huge field. To let me off in the middle of a huge field with a bull that had already proven itself as feisty. I hadn't thought that plan through when I requested it. For instance, what was I planning on doing? Running? I might have been a sprinter in high school but let's be realistic...I'm no match for a 1,000 pound bull that's irritated. 

Craig apparently has more foresight (5*) than I and his response to my request was "You're alright Love". And I was. The bull on the other hand did eventually change his address and was moved to the proper pasture, albeit by the force of a pickup with a trailer. 

The rest of my 24-hour stay was quiet and wonderful, just what I needed after a long week. We headed out Sunday morning and lucky for me, Craig had a little extra room on his trailer.

*It's not really a salt flat but as I write this I'm drawing a blank and my information source is at home sleeping. Drat. A little body of water that dried up and left this residue.... alkali? Aargh, why didn't I pay more attention in science!

**Craig's sister, Nada, brought the ultrasound machine to do this. My question was how did they get the hooves in the stirrups.

***Until she fell off. Dogs are amazingly resilient though... she fell off, did a few rolls, found her feet again, and starting chasing the bull. I would have fallen off and been down for the count. Now that I think about that, maybe I should have just rolled off the back instead of asking to be let off. I'll store that for next time.

4*Until she fell off too.

5*Foresight, ranchsmarts, common sense, whatever. Craig did tell me later that I would have just been a target for the bull. I'm glad he's a thinker.

Problematic

After a particularly long, and somewhat stressful day on Tuesday, I decided it would be a good idea to make cookies. There's just something about baking that quiets my head. I can't figure out why that is though. With all the acrobatics one is required to do to cook in my little kitchen ... "Let's see, do I unplug the refrigerator or the telephone to plug in the mixer? Am I expecting any important calls?"* "Why is my oven door only opening 23% of the way?"** "Where can I put my massive fruit bowl so that I've got room on my ONE counter? After all, Rosemary does like to lick the bananas***. Weirdo."... you'd think it'd actually raise the stress meter to DEFCON 1. In any case, I went for it and decided on Chocolate Chip-Oatmeal-Pecan cookies.

Let me just clarify right now that no, I don't always partition my ingredients out like I'm the star of my own cooking show. It just so happened that I was waiting for my butter to soften a little bit more so I got all OCD with my baking. I also don't make a habit of reading Runner's World while I bake. You probably can't see it here but the headline on this issue is 'DROP 5 POUNDS FAST!'. The chances of that happening while there's an open bag of chocolate chips in my house is slim to none and slim doesn't have a chance.

The baking went well and the cookies turned out great. I made one pan of them and put the rest of the dough in the freezer so that I've got something to snack on should we fall into a worldwide crisis and Quaker goes out of business.

That same logic of saving things until later doesn't apply when there is a Tupperware full of cookies on my counter. I cannot keep my hands out of them. My day goes somewhat like this...

7AM - "What? It's time for breakfast? I'll just have a cookie or 3. They've got oatmeal, it's practically cereal."

7:45AM - "I should probably grab a cookie for my drive to work. I'd hate to be stranded in the 12 miles between my house and my office without food."

9:15AM - "Dang, I should have grabbed 2 cookies. I want a snack"

1:10PM - "A cookie after lunch would be awesome."

2:36PM - "Cookie"

5:25PM - "Now that I'm home I should have a couple of cookies before dinner, that way I won't eat as much"

5:27PM - "I think I'll just have cookies for dinner"

9:45PM - "I'm gonna treat myself to a little snack before bed. Since I've got them I'll just have a cookie."

10:17PM - "I realize I just brushed my teeth but there's probably only like 3.5 chocolate chips in this little one."

3:32AM - "What's that Vera and Rosemary? You think it's time for breakfast? Alright, I'll get up and feed you. I think I'll have a cookie on my way back to bed."

4:50AM - "I'm sorry, what Vera? You'd like me to get up and turn the water on so that you can get a drink? Is that why you're making noise in the corner by chewing on paper? Okay, I'll get up and turn on the faucet. I might as well grab a cookie."

7AM - "I wonder what I should have for breakfast?"

At the end of 48 hours, this is what's left. Where'd I put that Runner's World?

*You laugh, but it's seriously a question I have to ask myself. I usually unplug the phone but I've considered the fridge on many occasions.

**Have you ever opened the door to your pre-heated oven only to have it come off in your hands? Talk about your acrobatics! Due to the intense heat you can't really get your face down there to see what the problem is with the hinges so you just jam it back into place and try to pretend that the 2 inch gap between the oven and the door really isn't going to affect your cooking time all that much. Just add a few minutes on the timer.

***It really is a problem. I tend to store my bananas on my bookshelf. Rose isn't much of a reader.