A Tragedy Tonight

That slinky went down the stairs FAST.  We zipped past that dangerous season, and it seems we’ve jumped straight into summer.  Hot and the humidity factor is rising.

But sticky is no excuse for not hoofing it in to work.  Rain will still force me into the car, but just because we’re above 80 in the afternoon is not enough to stop me from taking to the streets.  And mornings have been beautiful!

Except for THIS morning.  As I was making my way out of the park, thoroughly enmeshed in the song pounding against my eardrums and celebrating the smell of freshly mowed grass…I happened to see this…

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The poor little fella!  To be cut down so brutally in his prime by a riding mower!

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Some day…when I’m ALLLLLLL chopped up!

I’ll never forget ya, little buddy!

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Sporadic-us

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There was this scene from ‘Clueless’ quite a while ago which keeps popping into my head… she was planning a romantic night with her current ‘man of her dreams’ and he wanted to watch the original Spartacus.  Only in the monologue, she pronounced it Sporadic-us…so I’ve blatantly stolen that little bit of giggle for my blog post.

If you’re unfamiliar with the movie Clueless, it came out in the mid-90’s – it starred Alicia Sliverstone playing the part of an extremely shallow teenager with unlimited funds coming of age.  There are a lot of little leavening bits like the one I’ve stolen, but overall, it’s a good, silly little flick.

Which has to bring me to the meat & taters of this post.  I’ll probably be a little Sporadic-us in my postings for the next couple of months, because I’m FINALLY buying a house!

Yea, life-changing event.  Saving for the future.  Largest investment.  30 YEAR mortgage!
PANIC-LEVEL ANXIETY!

So while the bank is combing through every inch of my financial history, while the seller and listing agent are attempting to keep my interest high, while the credit card is sweating bullets with all the STUFF I have to get to maintain the home, while the entire team are working on justifying lending this single, 50 year old woman a metric shit-ton of money…well, let’s just say, they may be keeping me a bit too busy to regularly tackle the blog.

On the other hand, you may well get a number of posts from me bemoaning the entire process and how intrusive it feels.  There may even be tears.  We’ll just have to wait and see how the words hit the screen.

Any time that’s not taken up with jumping through all the hoops of high-property finance will be properly winnowed away by the little gremlins in my head who are screaming and breaking things because they HATE moving!

Right now, they’re enacting this enchanting scene from 300…

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Wish me calm…I need it!

My Good Deed for the Day

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I rescued a little birdie today…

Seriously.

There are a couple of different ways to get up to the 2nd level of the city parking structure, where I park my car.  The one I use most often is the main entrance on South Street, currently being torn all to hell & back (and, let’s make this clear…this is NOT one of the nicer hells) by Wisconsin’s ‘other’ season.

Last night, they had torn out the sidewalk leading up to the structure’s main doors.  When the construction crews aren’t in the street, you can still get in there by crossing the torn-up street and sneaking in around through the barriers.

Well…they start early.  By the time I need to access my car and get to work, they’ve got the construction zone all full of moving equipment.

So I’ve gone to plan B – Use the street entrance to the SSI building, go up the elevator, and cross the alley by means of the skyway.

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This morning…there was a bird stuck in the garage side of the skyway.  He was frantically beating himself against the glass, certain that there HAD to be a bird-shaped hole he could get through so he could return to the sky.

 

Poor little thing.

 

I started by trying to guide his frantic flight through the big open doors in the garage.  Nope…he was having none of that, and I probably scared the thing half to death in the attempt.  So next, was a careful cornering of the fella and a catch.

He didn’t resist the hands much.  Once I cupped his wings, he was quiet while I transported him back to the open side of the garage structure.  As soon as I opened my hands, he was gone, back into the skies of his domain.

He didn’t even poop in my hands.  I’d say that’s all the thanks I need 😀

A Chainmaille Tribute to that ‘S’ word

Late last month, I got a rather urgent call from my SQO.  He was over at his Aunt’s place, and was going to be there a little while longer than planned, because they had to wait for the EMS.

His mother was visiting as well, and, upon exiting her car, she misplaced a foot.  The difference in elevation between the driveway and the lawn snagged an unwary victim, and she ended up falling out of her car.

Diagnosis:  she broke a hip.

Now, if we ‘age’ this wonderful lady by her attitude, I’d put her in the late teens.  She’s a fiery person in a chronologically-correct 80 year old shell.  So, with bones having spent that amount of time defying gravity’s pull, her doctors decided to replace the joint, rather than immobilize and let it heal naturally.

I had an opportunity to visit with her in the hospital…and made her a little something to brighten her room.

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The flowers are sprouting ALL over my little corner of the Earth.  Winter is back in the coat closet 😀

 

Slinkys, Shoes, the color Green, and Amazon

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WE.  HAVE.  GREEN.

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The trees are starting to leaf again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tiny little bluebells (at least, I think they’re bluebells…) are blue-belling their happy little selves out from the soil.  Flowering shrubbery is finally living up to its name, and the birds are extremely relieved their seasons-senses didn’t actually betray them.

 

As an aside, I did see a robin standing in (to them) belly-deep white stuff a couple of weeks ago, glaring in the way that birds can glare with their black eyes, insisting (again, in the way that birds do) I – PERSONALLY – get rid of this white crap and dig out some tasty worms.  I may have actually imagined the robin saying (in a chirpy voice, nonetheless) What.  The.  Actual.  FUCK????

The slinky has officially started down the stairs in Wisconsin.

To celebrate, I looked at new shoes on Amazon, as I’m starting to feel the pavement a bit too keenly in my old pair.  True to the power of their awesome algorithms, they’ve sent me this recommendation based on my browsing history:

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Ok, I admit I looked at ladies shoes.  Probably because that’s the style of plumbing I currently use within my body to handle liquid waste products.  And, stereotypically, ladies wear makeup (although I do have a few friends who are decidedly male and slather on the war paint).  But I’m dying to know how wandering through the shoe selection of Amazon results in skin care?

Honestly, I expected them to send me a recommendation for those stiletto-heeled, thigh-high, platform, patent pleather boots again.

Guess I’ll just be satisfied with this silly sign I saw in one of the downtown resale shops…

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More on that Damned Shower

Soooo…against my better judgement, I took a shower with the ‘questionable’ bar of soap.

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I’ve regretted it…
Especially my right butt cheek.

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I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the most graceful swan, gliding in stunning white over pure blue, mirror-bright water…rather, I resemble a duck.

 

Waddling along.
Through an endless field.
Of dry grass.
Missing half his wing feathers.
And a leg.

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So I had a bit of a slip, and ended up sitting down on the ledge of the tub…REALLY hard!

 

In between a stream of rather inventive expletives, I heard it.

The soap…
giggling with the abandon of the damned.

 

I’m switching back to Ivory…

 

 

 

 

Showering with the Damned

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There’s this little boutique-y shop downtown that makes its money by selling small portions of its floorspace to the REALLY small business craftsperson.  The business is kinda like the farmer’s markets that pop up in cities all over the country, only year round and with the comfort of HVAC.

I’ve often bounced around the idea of renting my own floor space in the place to open up a new visibility point for my chainmaille.

Aaaaaanyway….This particular boutique has a stall for this craftsperson who makes soap.
It’s fantastic stuff, this handcrafted soap.  They add colors in swirls, make the stuff smell amazing, and the bars get their intended job done.  My favorite scent (of the moment) is an almond/cherry mix, although I’ve also been particular to their sandalwood spice mix in the past.

So, last night, shower happened.  Here I am, sudsing up without a care in the world, and I look…really LOOK… at my bar of sweet & bubbly solidly saponified fat…

I looked up soap-making quite some time ago…fascinating process!

And it occurred to me that there’s a rather demonic face being rubbed all over my…

let’s just say…

feminine bits.

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A bit TMI?

Not sure if I should use the rest of the bar, or craft a protective circle around it and attempt to exorcise the demon?

Evil shouldn’t smell this sweet…