Happy anniversary to you/us/it

Happy anniversary to sidenote:! Happy anniversary to sidenote:! Happy anniversary to sidenote:, happy anniversary to you...us...it.

I don't really have anything profound to say about this being the fourth anniversary of my little blog. It doesn't feel like it has been that long, which is ok by me.

Thanks for sticking with it/us/me, folks.

p.s. For five years? Cupcakes. Mark your calendars. 08.31.09

Four years later

Ok, tomorrow is the fourth anniversary of Sidenote:. AH! I still can't believe it.
I haven't written consistently for all four years (there is gap of over a year) but still. I'm proud.
Here are a few of my favorite moments from over the years as captured in my posts:

THE BEGINNING
The time Jonas tried to use a mouse on my ankle when setting up wireless internet at Common Ground with Matt. A first in Common Ground... 9.5.04
My first day of class sophomore year when my name actually appeared on the menu at the cafeteria. The first day of class... 9.10.04
When I called my dad during his business trip and found out he was in Mexico taking shots of tequila. This 'n' That 12.2.04


THE MIDDLE
*Jonas' ode to me after a long absence from blogging (it refers to olives and cookies...things he still brings up in comments.) "Oh where... 7.25.05
*Having a fish actually try to bite off a mole on my leg while floating at the cabin. Protect Your...Moles? 8.7.05
*When Alex Micek told me, "Thank you for helping me meet my girlfriend!" Five years after I set them up, he and Kala are still together and I couldn't be happier for them. Housekeeping on Facebook 11.10.05

THE NOW(ISH)
*Sometimes I feel like I actually capture something real that might actually mean something. Seeing an old gentleman tie his wife's scarf around her head was one of those moments. Love is a plastic head scarf. 5.30.08
*The memory of dancing with Dan on an abandoned stage in Madrid which launched me into thoughts about how certain people appear in my life right when I need them. Trade-offs 6.11.08
*Remembering Grandpa John. Family musings: Part II 7.21.08

And finally, my favorite post of all time. Reading it makes me think, "Where did that insight come from?" I wrote it during a tough time and the things I poured out then still resonate with me now. So, it just goes to show that while everything can change in four years some things just might always stay true. Untitled 5.24.05

Almost anniversary time

Sunday August 31st will be the 4th anniversary of sidenote:! Crazytown. To begin the celebration, today I've rounded up some interesting tidbits, a few shout outs, and other misc information about sidenote:.

Most long-term loyal readers: MJI (aka el confusador aka Matt), JMW (aka el vato suave aka Jonas) and Ms. Mykala Lind have all been reading since close to day 1 and still read 'em today.
Times JMW has referred to olives, cookies, and/or marrying me in comments: TOO many to count
Most prolific commenters: MJI and JMW, no doubt about it
Farthest readers: Sister (aka Katie) in Seal Beach (1,938 mi), Dan in Philly (1,164 mi) and Bekah had a brief stint as the farthest during her time in Europe this summer (lots and lots of miles)
Blogs send the most readers to sidenote: : Wiltscheck Family Update and Almost Pretty
Day with the least readers: Saturday
Day with the most readers: Thursday
Random Google phrases that bring people to sidenote: : apple juice expiration date, how to protect moles, tulsa sloppy joes, plastic head scarves
Number of titles with a "...": 14
Number of Posts: 152 and counting (plus another 20 drafts that have never actually been published)

Bleed at a typwriter

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
- Ernest Hemingway
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

stay
what i give
you cannot take
keep it here
near the start
so i can watch
and keep it safe
with you


Disconnect
What Skin wants
and science says
split a center seam,
jagged between rib cages.
Space between organs fills
with independant Desires,
dancing around cells.
Wishes like flowers
burst gently-
soft blooms next to worn bone.
From the belly Dreams push through:
threading, stitching, tying,
suturing her hemispheres together.

Laundry and I don't get along

Laundry? Not my forte, although not the only thing that isn't my forte, as previously discussed. I didn't realize how bad I am at it until Megan O, my other mother Jill, Mom and I started talking about it the other day. Sorting colors and selecting water temp/cycle/load size etc are easy peasy but beyond that I struggle. On a fairly regular basis I either start the washing machine without adding detergent and or I don't start the dryer after transferring my clothes until I two hours have gone by and I realize the buzzer still hasn't sounded. Dryer sheets? I've just stopped buying any; remembering to put them in with my clothes is just beyond me.
One of my worst laundry moments came when my mom was at The Stanford House one. I mistakenly blamed her on my mental block. When I went downstairs to check on a load I had started, the washing machine lid was open and my poor clothes were floating in a few gallons of water. "MOM! Why did you open the washing machine? My clothes are drowning!" I shouted up the stairs at her.
"Caley," she patiently responded from the basement door, "I didn't touch your washing machine. I have been up here with you the whole time." For at least 3-4 minutes I stood in front of my laundry soup until I figured out that when I was the one who hadn't shut the top after pulling the start knob, causing it to stall just before the spin cycle. Impressive.
I also have a new found talent for being an idiot when making the bed. The other day I actually managed to successfully wash and dry my amazing organic sheets (and I'm not exaggerating, they are really amazing, kind of silky without being sleazy and the perfect summer weight). OK, fine, I'll admit it, I may have transferred the sheets into the dryer and then left for the evening without turning on the dryer. Coming home at 10:30 to soggy sheets and an unmade bed was not cool. After I finally drying my sheets and making the bed, my phone disappeared. I called and could hear it ring but couldn't see it anywhere. Not under the bed, not in my top drawer, not under the pillows, nowhere. Seven consecutive calls later I gave up and flopped down. Cue princess and the pea: I felt the phone jabbing me from underneath my fitted sheet. "Good job," I thought to myself. "Well done."
Talent. Pure talent.

Please don't rain, please don't rain Part II

Dear God,
Thank you. I just asked for no rain; the sunset was above and beyond.
Love,
Caley Jennifer

Oh boy(s) Part II

OK so I've made references to the fact that I tend to have strange dates. Here is a run down of one such recent date. There are many more in my archives, I might just keep pulling them out and continuing with this "Oh boy(s)" series.


-invite date to a pro sporting event (my parents are season ticketholders)
-get call day of event that date has to go to work halfway through event
-date invites me to dinner before event to make up for having to leave early
-i agree
-i can't figure out to wear, have to ask my next door neighbor for an outfit consult and barely leave on time
-show up, date is crabby after getting no sleep the night before
-halfway to resturaunt, date notices he forgot his wallet
-go back to his apartment to pick wallet up
-we eat, drink, and then date realizes his credit card is not in the wallet we went back to get
-i pay
-we miss lightrail because waitress comes running after us to give date back the keys he left on the table
-late for game
-i buy drinks, drop one of them, person next to us (who happens to be a family friend) reaches to pick it up, hits his head on a railing and gets a giant goose egg on his forehead
-i feel bad
-we leave game early so date can get to work
-i slip on mysterious liquid walking around inner ring of the dome, fall, land on my bad knee and look stupid
-date laughs
-drunk girls at lightrail compliment me, say i'm beautiful and ask date how he ended up with me
-date "jokingly" tells them that i'm his sister
-i'm not amused
-he does it again
-still not amused
-get back to date's apartment and am ditched in his living room so he can get ready for work
-i let myself out
-kelsey and i meet for wine, hash out the evening and pronounce it to be one of the worst dates ever (even worse than the date when the guy took me to noodles and company and then had a weird reaction to the pasta sauce during which he kept sweating profusely and dripped some of it into my food.)
-i drink too much wine
-wake up feeling miserable
-little brother brings a smoothie to me in bed and somewhat restores my faith in men
-i erase date's phone number from my phone
the end.

Please don't rain, please don't rain

Dear God,
As you know, for my baby brother's birthday I bought Brad Paisley concert tickets at the State Fair Grandstand. I planned ahead, like really ahead, and bought them in December even though his birthday wasn't until May. So, the concert is today, August 22, 2008. WCCO tells me that there is a 43% chance of rain at 4, which is when we planned to head out to the Great Minnesota Get-together. Still 43% at 7:00 when the concert is supposed to start. This could be a problem, since the Grandstand is an outdoor venue. I was just wondering, being that you're God and all, if you could maybe decrease that chance of rain from 43% to lets say, zero percent? That would be wonderful. I would be deeply indebted to you, as would my leopard print umbrella who would then get to stay in my purse and rest instead of getting all wet protecting my little head.
Thanks a lot for considering my request. You're the best.
Love always,
Caley Jennifer
p.s. When I'm eating my cheese curds and drinking my beer I'll be sure to send a toast of appreciation your way.
p.p.s. The picture below is from last year at the Grandstand. Just thought you might need an example of the kind of night I'm requesting.

Generosity

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Blashack, for your hospitality this weekend. I had a wonderful time."
"Oh," She brushed my thanks aside with her hand, "You are always welcome, we're glad you came."
"No really, I had such a great time and Liz invited me back for the hay ride this fall."
"You don't need an invitation to come back here. You just show up whenever you need a little bit of the country. There is plenty of room and you're always welcome. We're always here 'cause the cows always need to be milked, so you just come on up whenever you'd like."

The plate (almost) broke

Instead of saying, "It was the straw that broke the camel's back," Grandma always says, "The plate broke." When she was a young wife she threw a dinner party using her good china. Washing the dishes after the guests left, one of the plates slipped out of her sudsy hand and shattered. On a normal night, it wouldn't have bothered her. She would have swept up the shards, shrugged, and finished the rest of the dishes. But for some reason, on that particular night having that particular plate break sent her over the edge. My whole family uses the expression and it is flashing in my mind like a Vegas marquee driving home after a day filled with too many meetings.
Where did I put the Comcast bill? It could be on my table but there are so many magazines, bills, and gift cards scattered across the surface I will never be able to find it there. Or maybe it is mixed in with the pile of books, electronics cords, and receipts in the office. Or maybe, maybe I need to stop. If I keep thinking about it, the Comcast bill will break the plate. I think the tightness in my chest isn't from to a seat belt doing its job too well, and the lump at the base of my throat can’t be blamed on the dust from road construction. Both are anxiety, I know the signs well enough. Tension has been stacking up inside me like Jenga blocks since I found out that Grandpa had a stroke last month. Grad school, painting bedrooms, workplan, stacks of laundry, Thanksgiving airfare, friends chasing drama, unmown lawn, empty fridge, dating confusion, and the missing Comcast bill; somewhere between the parking garage and my house I could feel it all start pressing in around me.
Taking a deep breath, I switch the radio off, put my seat back just a smidge and stretch my head from side to side. “I can hold it off,” I told myself, “A few more minutes and I’ll be home.”
Finally I turn off the alley and pull the key out. Now, I can close my eyes and take myself away—away from the air threatening to squish me into a ball. Pulling away from that thought, I stop resisting and push myself through the exercise of placing my mind somewhere quiet, peaceful, safe. It doesn’t want to go and I can feel my heart speed up in my chest as I realize I might not be able to do this. What if I get stuck in this place swirling with worry? What if I can't get out and I'm trapped and suffocate and--
But I know I can. I’ve done it before. I can do it now. I'll do it again, if I have to.
Forced relaxation: almost as much of an oxymoron as sanitary landfill or jumbo shrimp. “I will stay in this garage until I don’t care about the Comcast bill even if it means sleeping in the driver’s seat,” I say outloud to the dashboard. One limb at a time I go to a place where the air becomes gentle, a hammock swings, and the sun sets softly. I let myself linger long enough to set the plate down and reassure myself it is not going to break. Then I open my eyes and climb out of the car.
Fortunately, it hasn't taken me all night and before my stomach starts grumbling enough to bring the neighbors outside I get to the point where I feel like myself again. “I’ll look for the bill after I eat,” I think, “Food is more important.”
-------------------------------
This is where I take myself, every time.

Bubble tea

At lunch with a colleague today I was exposed to something entirely new, slightly scary, but generally entertaining: bubble tea. Where to begin? First, you have to select a regular tea-ish item off the menu. There are shakes and lattes and chai shakes and the list goes on and on. After that, you pick a flavor. Each different type of tea drink has about 20+ flavors to go with it: almond, vanilla almond, papaya, taro, mint. So, pick a drink, pick a flavor, add bubbles. The bubbles are the crazy part. Half gummy, half goey, with a touch of slippery...factor in that they are black and it's all a little overwhelming. One cool thing is that they put a plastic sealed top on as a lid so you have to use the giant straw to poke through the saran wrap like top to get to your drink. That part, was fun. The first bubble made my eyes get big and I definitely squeaked, kind of like I did when the cow licked me, but from there on out it was a little weird. Once I started I felt the need to follow through but I just couldn't quite eat all of my bubbles. Emily did the tea justice so at least one of us finished what we started. Overall, a fun experience on a hot summer day...evey if the bubbles feel a little odd in my belly now.
(Picture from Google images)

Take me home, country roads

Not only did I grow up reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, my grandma used to tell me story upon story about living on the farm in Ohio as a kid. She would come to visit and I crawled into her bed every moning far too early. To keep me appeased until she had fully woken up she would tell me in great detail about the Coshocton farm.
One of my favorites was the rooster her sister Irene kept as a pet that was the dumbest rooster anyone had ever seen. He would run around in circles and no one could distract him from his path. One day, Irene couldn't find him until it was time to feed the pigs. He was so dumb he managed to drown himself in the slop bucket.
Then, there was the one where grandma had to go down to the milk house to get some butter. The house was dug into the side of a hill and a small stream ran through it, keeping the dairy products cool even in the summer. She was lollygagging around when a little garter snake slipped across her foot through the stream. Screaming, she spilled the milk into the water and ran back up to the house where on top of the trauma of the snake she got in trouble from her momma for wasting the milk.
The stories went on and on...going into town to wait at the railroad station for her dad to come home from his second job working on the trains. Grandma said the wheels on that train were so big that they scared her half to death but she would stand there on the podium, determined not to flinch so her daddy wouldn't think she was a scardy cat.
Hearing these tales for as long as I can remember has made me always want to live on a farm. Or, at the very least, to visit one. This weekend Liz made my dream come true by letting me stay on the Blashack farm for her sister's wedding. I played with the kittens, got licked by cows, chased turkeys with her baby cousin, drove a tractor, and still didn't get to everything I wanted to do. I will be going back. Soon. Until then, here are some pictures highlighting my dream come true.

Not sure if you can see the cow peeking out directly behind me but about 3 seconds after this picture was shot, my expression turned to total shock as she licked the back of my leg. I may have squealed a little bit...

Joy. Pure joy.

On my face here, however, is a mix between total terror and complete excitement. The bailing tractor started up a little faster than I expected. Mr. Blashack's only advice was, "Just don't hit my pick-up."
Next time I visit I fully expect to leave with a kitten. Maybe even this one. Soooooo precious.

Hapbee Thursday

This is what was left on my desk this morning! Bee graham crackers. Mmm. Pretty sure I have some of the best co-workers ever.

Sky Show

(Picture taken on my cell phone out the window while driving. It does NOT do the sky justice.)
Last night I could have pulled over and watched the sky for hours. There was a full rainbow, blue sky, deep purple and green clouds, lightening, an orange sunset, and rain. At one point you could actually see the cloud front rolling in, looking like a roiling anvil. The downpour, zero visibility and borderline hydroplaning weren't so fun but it stopped as quickly as it started and as I pulled into my alley, the sky was stacked with reds and pinks and peaches vivid enough to make me almost forget to open the garage door before parking.

Sibling moment

"Snipe!" I called as I slid into the booth.
"You would take the seat with the better view."
"Better view of what?" I asked, looking around the bar.
"What do you mean 'of what'?" He shot at me, "TV. Olympics?"
Squinting at the screen I said, "TV? I just wanted to face the door but now that you mention it maybe we should change to--" Our waitress stepped in front of my view as she slid the menus in front of us.
"I think we might be switching tables," Paul told her, pointing to a table with a better view while throwing a nod of blame my way.
I tried to offer up an explanation. "I can't see from here" but I was shut out by, "She's old."
"Hey!" my squint turning to a glare in his direction, "I'm not old, I just forgot my glasses."
Menus in hand we wove through tables on the busy floor.
As we settled into our new spot I caught him mumble, "Yes you are," into the laminated fold.
"Whatever, I am not but now I still can't see because of the pole."
"No, you can't see because you're old."
My glare returned but just as I opened my mouth to snap back, the server returned. "All ready to order?"
"No, we're-" he absorbed the look on my face, "-struggling tonight." Laughter jumped out from both sides of the table.
"OK, I'll come back then?" She shrugged and left us. We just kept laughing.

Olympic Fever

I've got it. Plain and simple. A crazy case of Olympic Fever. I realized how addicted I am when at 3:00 am I woke up to grab a glass of water and go to the bathroom and I thought to myself, "Maybe I'll turn on NBC. Just for a minute. Just to see what sport is on..." Needless to say, I got glued an am more tired than I would like to admit right now. The best part is that I am already counting down until I can go home and watch some more! Who cares if I have to do laundry, at least I can do it with Michael Phelps swimming in the background. And yes, I will admit, I have secret crushes on a fair amount of athletes. Not so secret now that I've admitted to it, though. Must be a symptom of O.F.
Picture from google images

A Special Day

I've never gotten an anniversary card. Not for anything. Until today. I opened my mail and there it was, lovely heavy cream paper with a pale blue pattern and classic print across the front that said,

Happy Anniversary from Quest

Apparently it is my one year anniversary of having Quest service and they felt it appropriate to send me a card. One cool thing is that if it is my one year anniversary of having phone service, it is also the one year anniversary of buying The Stanford House!





















Which means it is also the one year anniversary of the roof of The Stanford House roof blowing off in a storm.

















A year and one month ago I got my new car, too!

















One year and one month ago on that very same day my new car got hailed on.













I think maybe the reason I've never gotten an anniversary card is because they don't make the kinds I would need to commemorate my special days.

Things I love right NOW

As Kathleen often says, "It's the little things, really." Here are some little things that have gotten me through a tough couple days at the office.
Bendy Guy, rocking out on my desk in the middle of the plant wreath that was put on my head in honor of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics.

Maybe Bendy Guy is singing along to my new favorite song, Elise's "Rock Your Soul" which Courtney Galiano did a beautiful solo to on "So You Think You Can Dance."

(check it out, seriously, its only 38 seconds long and who wants to work on a Friday anyway?).

The "Sweet dreams are made of these" shirt...I don't even have the words to describe how much I love cupcakes so this t-shirt from shirt.woot is pure delight to me. Check out their product description......it might even be cuter than the shirt itself.

An Ellen Degeneres clip discussing the benefits of the "Hawaiian Chair," that claims helps you to work out at work. Really it just flings you around and around until you're so dizzy there is no way you could do any work. I wonder what Boss would do if I got one for my desk...

"Defendant trades murder plea for KFC, pizza" How could anyone not enjoy an article like that? Ok maybe not everyone would, it might be my criminal justice minor kicking in. HA!

Raisin Bran with soy milk. Not sure why I'm admitting to that, it kind of makes me close to 80 years old but I just can't help it. I love the stuff.

(Image from Entertainment Weekly Online) My new copy of "Mad Men," season 1. Season 2 has already started on AMC and now that I've watched the entire first season (it only took me 3 days, just to give you an indication of how good it is), I'm going to go use my parents for their Tivo and catch up over the weekend. By the way, this show is not just for the ladies. I got a marketing guy hooked on it just the other day. He claims his office is the 2008 version of the show. Scary?

(Image from the MNHS website)
Spending summer hours half days doing productive things, like checking out the Ellis Island photo exhibit at the MN Historical Society.

This amazingly creative and kick ass animation. How are people that clever? Seriously? Who thinks of making an animated cartoon in which the animation turns against the animator and uses all the tools that were used to create it to fight? IMPRESSIVE. (MJI and El Vato, I think you two will really enjoy this one!)

When people send me links and give me cool things to add to my "Things I love right NOW" Sidenote: collection...like Pam who gave me Bendy Guy and the Ellen clip and Andrew Jacob who introduced me to Woot and the murder plea article.

And finally...the weekend.

Beggars can be choosers?

Walking past the marquis lights of a strip club on our way home from dinner, a man with hair sticking up like an unkempt lawn wearing a t-shirt that might have been white in the 90's motioned at us. "Hey, hey there. You got a minute?"
"Sure," Charlie shrugged, "What's up?"
"Those leftovers, you, you want 'em?" He asked, pointing toward the white folded take-out box Charlie was swinging by his side.
"You can have them. You want them?"
"Well," he paused thoughtfully, "whatcha got?" We looked at each other and I tilted my head, wondering where this was going.
"Pad thai. Its noodles and stuff."
Shaking his head back and forth he pushed for more details, "But is there any meat?"
Charlie let out a half chuckle, "Well yeah, there's chicken."
"No, no that's cool. I don't want it," he said as he shuffled off, holding his hand out warding off the food extended in his direction.
My mouth was open and I could barely choke out a disbelieving, "Did that just happen?"
"Can you do that? And who doesn't like chicken?"
"I guess beggars can be choosers."

The Shore

East coasters goes to "The Shore" like us Minnesotans go to "the cabin." Dan has been spending some time there lately and I have had a picture of what his vacations there must be like. In my head, The Shore is a place where the women wear pretty dresses and big floppy hats while sitting on wooden lounge chairs, mojitos in hand. The men wear checkered shorts, loafers with tassels and polos while smoking cigars, drinking brandy and talking on the deck. Nannies take the kids for gelato on main street and somehow there is always live music playing in the background, even though you never actually see musicians.
Apparently, The Shore in my head does not exist.
Ocean City, New Jersey is a dry town, so there go my mojitos and brandy. Replace the wooden lounge chairs with cheap, plastic fold ups and line the beach with 16 year old punk kids instead of glamorous couples. Instead of musicians, there are vagrant mummers trying to coax you into emptying the change from your pockets into their cans. One fringe benefit of the lack of liquor is that the frat children keep their Natty Ice drinking, Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting parties down the coast at Sea Isle City.
A detail that was left out of The Shore in my head is the surrey rides. I had never heard of a surrey before today but apparently they can carry a family on two wooden benches. Above is a canopy, and below are pedals generally out of reach for mothers and children leaving Dad to propel the family down the boardwalk Flinstones-style in their very own lane.

When I asked Dan if they at least have icecream stores there for the imaginary children to visit with their imaginary nannies, he said, "About 17 billion. In a town with no liquor, ice cream is king." Someday, when I have real children instead of imaginary ones, I would like to go there with my family. And Dan's. We could always bring our own mojitos, right?

"The Shore" picture combo by Dan. "Surrey" from Google images.

Not good----Good

RESTAURANTS
Not good:
Salut in St. Paul: To begin with, their website is annoying. Not sure why, it just bothers me. While the patio was beautiful for a nice summer evening on Grand Avenue, the service was meh at best. Be careful of the butter, there is so much salt it is actually crunchy. Food was over priced. Who wants to pay $12 for a burger? No one at my table particularly enjoyed their food. Unless they iron out the wrinkles in that place I don't think it is going to last long in St. Paul.
Good:
La Grolla: Divine Italian food. I don't even know where to begin. Over the past few years I have gotten to go there at least a dozen times and every single person I have ever been there with has raved about their food. Halibut is their specialty but Mom and I usually go for the great pastas. The waiters are experienced, there is good ambiance, and while the food is in the same price range as Salut you can't even compare the two. At La Grolla, the money is worth it. One note: they only serve beer and wine, not hard liquor. But who drinks anything but wine with Italian food anyway?
MOVIES
Not good:
Stepbrothers: Ok so this movie wasn't bad, per say, but I wouldn't necessarily say it was good. I laughed repeatedly throughout, especially when the 40 year old step brothers get grounded from using the TV and one of them whines, "But Dad, it's shark week!" The plot got a little ridiculous and drawn out and the comedy a little old. Probably not worth seeing in the theater but ok to rent.
Good:
The Dark Knight: If you haven't seen it, you should. Especially on the big screen. I'm a girl and I still thought the action scenes were rockin. Plus, Christian Bale? I've been in love with him since we used to obsessively watch "Newsies" in middle school. Oh and if Heath Ledger doesn't get nominated for a posthumous Emmy I'm going to be upset.
and
P.S. I Love You: It had Kelsey and me tearing up in the first five minutes. The scenery in Ireland made me want to go back to Dublin even more. It was sweet and funny and is now right up there with my two favorite sappy movies: Hope Floats and Sweet Home Alabama.

BBQs galore

Best line of the night at Lucas' BBQ birthday party Friday:
"An astronaut pen, awesome, thanks!"
"There are really only two gifts you can get a guy; astronaut pens or brass knuckles. I thought you fell into the former category."
"Good call."

Sunday little brother and his roomies had a bbq and I crashed it. Brats, burgers, corn and steak. It was delicious. The sweet pickles I thought were going to be dill until I bit into them were the only disappointments. Such a let down.






However, I passed on the beer bottle of bugs. Apparently it was cleaning day and in honor of shark week, the casualties were put in a Landshark Lager "casket."















Maybe if they had a mosquito house like I do to keep all of the creepy crawlies away they wouldn't have had such a massive fly epidemic in the kitchen. (Sidenote: My pinkie finger is to show you how tiny the little house Jan's father made really is.)

Uh oh.

Tuesday did not start well and definitely did not end well. I had "Uh oh." as my gchat status and my friend and loyal sidenote: reader MJI changed his status to, "What have you done now?" Nothing! I didn't do anything! Way to jump to conclusions. As if I am a trouble maker! Harumph. Ok he might have a point. But not this time!
I had woken up in the middle of the night, didn't feel well, felt better in the morning, and was in the ER by 2:30. For someone who has been in an ER hundreds of time dropping patients off on the ambulance, I kinda flipped when my mom suggested I go there myself. In the end I'm glad I went. I was very impressed with everyone here at the U of M campus Fairview ER; from the reception desk to security, the nurses and the doctors, people couldn't have been nicer. Which is good considering I was a bit testy after my 172 block trek over there in the 100 million F temp and 1000 billion degrees of humidity (sidenote: I may be using a little hyperbole in that description, but not much, I swear.)

All is well now...I just felt the need to explain why I've been a bit MIA this week.
Back to normal next week, lets hope...and no more "uh oh"s.