kellementology

life according to me

Category: Plans & Schemes

  • Theme switching in progress…

    Hi All — I’m working on my theme today, so things will be a bit strange. So what else is new, right? You just never know around here.

    I’m probably not off to a great start when you consider that I couldn’t figure out why, when I opened a new page, it would automatically scroll to the very bottom. No matter what I did, I couldn’t figure it out.

    Until I realized my plate was sitting on my space bar — and maybe the control key, the alt key, and a few others just for good measure.

    What a dork.

    Plus, ever since I uploaded WordPress 2.5, some strange things have been happening to my widgets. Like. They’re missing. I load the code, move them where I want them, save, refresh, and huh? They’re gone.

    So enough of this nonsense.

    And you’ll be glad to know I’m multi-tasking. Cleaning the RTR’s bathroom in between loading, deleting, and just for an occasional break. Sounds efficient, doesn’t it?

    I had to do something. My mom’s expected at our house within a week and will be needing to share his bathroom. I should probably bring in the garden hose with the power nozzle.

    News at eleven on that.

    Thanks for your patience!

  • Walking, talking, and thinking about good things.

    It’s still dark in the morning when the alarm goes off at 5:10 and I rarely hesitate before throwing back the covers to step over the doggo and find my way to the closet. If I’m lucky, I’ll avoid the Yack Star, who will want to eat, and actually make it downstairs with two shoes that go together. Navigating the stairs in the dark is scary enough to have to feel my way along the wall, making sure I land solidly on each step.

    Still not quite sure I’m awake, I glance at the clock and notice that only a few minutes have passed, so I pause long enough to grab a glass of water. My heart is pounding as I reach for my car key and wallet, hit the garage door button and fall into the driver’s seat. I cautiously back out, and head to my friend’s house, sometimes not quite realizing that I’m not still under the covers, snug and sleeping soundly.

    I never know if she’ll be awake when I arrive and so use the sloping curb of her driveway to stretch my stiff calves while I wait. Once in a while, the elderly man who lives across the street comes out, wanting to know who I am. He’s just being a good neighbor. But since my friend and I have gotten back into the swing of things, she’s been up and ready to go. I’ve not had time to even consider whether I’ll be brave enough to tap on the glass next to her front door, hoping she’ll hear me, and causing her dogs to bark.

    We start out with her loping yellow Lab each morning, barely awake, and it seems the first point of discussion is food. Often it’s more of a confessional, with comments like, “I wasn’t very good yesterday,” or “My husband looked at me and said, ‘Wine?’” Other times our talk is about which recipes we’ve tried. Somehow it makes getting up and over those hills much more easy.

    There’s something soothing walking that early in the day. The annoyance of cars leaving for work or taking kids to school comes much later, and except for the occasional ghostly shadow of someone who has ventured out to retrieve their morning paper, we see no one.  Hear almost nothing beyond the rustle of some small animal in the ivy, or the soft hooting of an owl somewhere high up in the eucalyptus trees.

    We’ve improved our route time by about six minutes even though we haven’t worked to do that. And only one incline continues to kick our butts, even though we’ve figured out that if we’re absorbed in a conversation, our minds don’t linger on the agony of lungs stinging for air or bodies gravity insists upon keeping close to the asphalt.

    As we approach the end of our route and the last rise, I feel the air change. It’s warm, and hints of the weather we’re to have this weekend — sunny and near 80 on the coast. For a moment, I think of summer and all that comes with it.

    By the time we return to the starting point, the sky is much lighter, and I drive home knowing that I’ve done something good for myself. We’ve walked about 16 miles since Sunday and I smile, acknowledging that it’s not bad for two well-seasoned chicks. I make plans for my day — not strict plans, though, because it’s Friday and I don’t have to do anything if I don’t feel like it.

    But I do feel like it. I feel like continuing to think carefully about what I eat. I feel like finding a place for my mom to live when she returns to Paradise from her non adventure on the Wrong Coast. I feel like cleaning my house, and planting some flowers, and lining up what I’ll be cooking this weekend.

    And I feel like spending time with the MoH who has been putting in 15-hour days. With any luck at all, I’ll actually get to see him. It puts a dent in my style when he’s not around.

    Maybe I’ll bake something with dark chocolate.

    It’s loaded with antioxidants, you know.

    Happy weekend.

  • Spring Break, The Fed, & Bracketology

    It’s Spring Break here.

    That means that at least in Paradise, the clear blue sky and brilliant sunshine will coax you outside after you’ve donned your tee-shirt and shorts only to find that the air is less than warm. Chilly, in fact. It’s rude.

    What’s even more rude is having to look at winter legs that need lotion, a good shave, and some color.

    Whatever.

    Spring Break is also a time for the RTR to engage in some serious house potato-ing. Yesterday he saturated himself with shows he DVR’d in preparation for this week. Today, he’s mid-gorge session, loading the second of three Pirates of the Caribbean DVD’s. The blinds are closed and the sensurround is turned up enough to cause the floor to vibrate on the good parts.

    Arg, mateys.

    (more…)

  • Wednesday Wordlessness. Finally.

    My year in Foh-Toz. Five words. Not bad. Okay so now 12.

    And just to confirm that I am so not wired to be wordless, I began this post some time on Wednesday, of course, and here it is Friday morning. And I’m typing. Words.

    Actually, I’ve been going through my foh-toz from the last year and I’m always amazed about what I learn. Fascinating things such as, 1) I still don’t really know how to use my camera which doesn’t bode well since it’s a point and shoot and can’t be much easier; 2) I take a lot of photos of food — an unbelievable quantity — they need to be deleted — do you have any idea how long that will take? Just another thing to put on my list; 3) I’m enjoying life so much and smile lots every day at very simple things; 4) There’s quite a story attached to almost every single one and although another viewer may not know what that story is, I do.

    I can remember thoughts, concerns, larger events, weather, and so many other not so visible aspects of life connected to each shot. And most of the time, that in and of itself is what brings the smile to my face.

  • Fridays & The Path to Wisdom

    OH-EM-GEE (as the RTR would say) OMG!

    It’s FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes! And I have so much to feel giddy about I fear it will bowl me over. Or something like that.

    The sun is up, the air is bracing (well, I think it is, but I’m not sure because I only cracked the door enough to let Her Fatissima out for her morning constitutional). But you know, cold. Like 48 degrees F. Bwhahahaha! Er…I mean Brrrrrrrrr….!

    My first cuppa coffee was swell so I think I’ll have another.

    As of this writing, Dubyah will only be in office for 347 days, 1 hour, 38 minutes and 56 seconds according to the countdown clock on my monitor.

    American Idol will FINALLY be starting the good shows next week — and I can’t wait — instead of all the up close and personal stuff we forget after all the tweeners start calling and choosing their next heart throb with big hair and the shadow of a mustache not quite ready to be shaved.

    Marcos, my colorist did not fire me as feared. I just got the usual lecture about needing for my hair to be lighter so my roots won’t show when they, well…show. Duh.

    And Dan, the cutter man pretty much cut most of my hairs off. It grows, yanno?Dan the Hair Man gave me a buzz job.

    I’m almost ready for the soiree I’m hosting tomorrow night featuring lip smackin’ Greek-Turkish-Moroccan cuisine prepared by myself and my VBF to celebrate the birthdays of two very dear friends (VGF and She Who Has No Blog Acronym) Oh. And their husbands. 😉

    (more…)

  • Life certainly does go on, doesn’t it?

    So, life goes on, of course.

    The RTR has a holiday today in spite of the fact that the MoH and I have to go to work. What? Like clients who happen to have a holiday as well will be busting the doors down to get their taxes taken care of?

    Um.

    Not.

    And yes, the Chargers lost. But yanno? They totally gave Bill something to think about. And without their bestest, 100% healthy team. After dealing with the ups and downs of the Chargers for umpteen gazillion years, we’re pretty pleased with the effort. And bummed that Green Bay didn’t win, of course. But the bright side of that is that I’m sure all the talking heads are pissed now because they couldn’t have their back-up dream match up for the Thooper Bowl. BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I am so glad for that. Boring farts. East Coast biased sports crap. It just gets so completely OLD after a while. They all need to get over them selves.

    Besides, that fat lady still hasn’t begun to sing. I can’t HEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR her Bill cheating Belichick. Now where was that vodoo doll I bought the last time I was in New Orleans? Hmmmm….
    And sadly, the Best Buy saga is almost at an end. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, count yourself lucky. I finally relinquished my grip on the situation with the television, the MoH called, and voila. He was told it would be taken care of. Just. Like. That.

    I guess it’s true that no one enjoys a harpy. But the reality is that someone’s gotta stir the pot before the closer comes in. Yah. Whatever.

    (more…)

  • Already planning for summer vacation…

    The MoH and I have saved ninety gazillion points on our respective plastic money over the past couple of years in anticipation of another trip to Europe. When my sister first told me a while back that she charged everything to collect points, I thought…Yer kiddin’! And then promptly jumped on the bandwagon.

    Now before you get your drawers in any kind of a serious knot about thinking this is not a good idea, please know you actually have to pay the plastic money off as you go or you’re screwed. Count that as your “don’t do this at home” warning type message because I don’t even want to listen to you whine if you figure out you have no will power. Okay, well maybe I’ll listen a bit. But that’s all.

    Moving right along…

    We totally enjoyed a trip to the UK two summers ago and loved every minute of the seven days and 750 miles we drove from Manchester down to Bakewell for a few hours visit to Chatsworth House, and then to Conwy in Northern Wales, down to Powys-Knighton, Bath, Glouchester, Stow-in-the-Wold and on to London . I’m sure I have the order a bit screwed up toward the end there, but you get the general idea.

    We lovingly referred to it as The Toads’ Wild Ride because we didn’t especially love driving on the wrong side of the road in that tiny vehicle that tried really hard to be a van but failed. It was cute, though, stuffed as it was with the three of us not so small people and our tons of luggage. We loved the people we met, the amazingly beautiful green countryside (nary a freaking palm tree in sight…), the castles, and the tiny villages we’d miss if we blinked as we passed through. It makes my heart ache just remembering. It is soooooooo hard not to venture right back and see the parts we didn’t see. Sigh. Like that could actually happen when there is so much else to see in the world.

    And since we used plastic for that trip, it actually helped pay for this next one. Points, points, and more points. So where are we off to this next summer courtesy of our points? Italy. Now how completely cool is that? “We” includes one of my older sons who is paying for his own air fare, thank you very much! And…I think my sister’s family is going to meet us there, too, so this could be downright party time for us all. Or pandemonium.

    (more…)

  • Best Buy: I’m their poster sucker.

    Clearly I’ve uploaded a new version of WordPress and well…I have a mess to clean up now. At least I won’t be bored this weekend, huh?

    There is simply nothing quite like waking up on a Friday, looking forward to actually eating something before 1pm and screaming at the latest supervisor on the phone with Best Buy. But I’m not going to bore you with the sordid details because I’ve recovered from my searing anger, am no longer shaking, and have managed to pull myself up knowing that sometimes, telling myself that I should have more patience simply does not work. I ran out, okay?

    Best Buy Smile #1

    I opened a book my mother-in-law gave me a few years ago called Simple Abundance. It’s one of those hefty tomes that is somewhat of a day book with a page designated for each day of the year. January 11th’s entry for thought is entitled, “Is it Recession or Depression?” It begins with some words from Hellen Keller: “No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.” The entry then proceeds to inform me that I must put thoughts of lack behind me, but to do that, I must change. I must make a fundamental change — but have to take a deep breath first. I have to learn to be an optimist.

    Um.

    (more…)

  • Dear Peter Walsh, Organizational Guru…

    I’m making progress here, although today, if it wasn’t for NaBloPoMo, I’d probably take the blogging day off. I’m in high gear on this house organizing frenzy, liking it, and noticing some interesting things about what exactly is organized and what isn’t in this house…and why. Like, the answer is Earth shattering, and everyone’s been waiting for it. For world peace. And stuff.

    November 15, 2007

    Dear Peter Walsh,

    The other day, I actually sat down to watch Oprah. That may not seem to be anything special, but I’ve been a sort of lazy good for nothing but blogging domestic engineer for about a year now, and spend no time watching daytime television. I don’t even think about it. You’re wondering what in hell all this has to do with the price of tea in China, right? So anyway, I actually remembered Oprah, clicked on the television, and there was Celine Dion. I’m a closet Celine aficionado — well, not quite an expert, but still. So I grinned, turned up the volume and sang the entire hour. I just love “I Drove All Night,” don’t you? The Roy Orbison version the best, I mean, he’s incredible, but Celine is great, too. Did you see her show in Vegas? It was completely amazing. I know, I know. You’re thinking I’m less than balanced and I can see that wild look in your eye that lets me know you’re planning your escape route. But stay with me here.

    So there was a commercial during the show that advertised another show coming later in the week. I think it’s airing today. It was about hoarders. I’ve been wondering about the idea of hoarding, and have been thinking of it while I’ve been going through my house. Sorry it takes me so long to get to what I’m talking about. My mind is full of clutter. Things go in and never come out, all up there waiting to be used. It’s a genetic problem. You just never know when someone may need to know what the botanical name for a Bird of Paradise is at the San Diego Zoo when you’re really there to see lions and tigers and bears. Fortunately, the problem isn’t so horrendous that I never get to my point, though, so that’s some relief. Isn’t it?

    But good news! I’m only in the mild to minimal category on the Hoarding Severity Scale. And according to my Clutter Assessment Results, I am a clutter victim, who can blame a “busy life” (um…car pool four times a week and two blogs? No.), “disposable income” (he’s kidding, right? What? You didn’t know money grows on a tree on our patio? Feh.), “and a steady influx of purchases” (well, okay, but they’re mostly food related, so they don’t stay around long…), and “junk mail” (erm, no one’s going to complain if the post office outlaws that crap. Maybe they could get on that?) Like I was saying…

    Here’s my progress to date. I have a handle on:

    • where all the bills go now (cool folders with LABELS *Woo Hoo!*) Okay so the folders aren’t cool; the labels are. And I will be getting cool folders. Some day after I get organized.
    • the office shelves are great, the closet isn’t too bad, and the stacks are down to a low roar. Of course every time I get my desk organized, someone leaves a tank on it. Sheesh.

    It’s hard to get good help any more, yanno?

      • magazines are now sorted, organized by date, and either recycled or marked and stored (but I’m really lying on this one, because going through the saved issues will take time…and I do have time)

    • the cheese drawer in the fridge (I’m still working on the science experiment that is our veggie bin, but at least it’s not mushy any more)
    • the RT’s bedroom which is much, much cleaner and organized (almost minty fresh and clean) I said almost, okay?

    IMG_0936.JPG IMG_4589.JPG

    Before and After. Not bad, huh? Now to get rid of the bunk bed. Okay, where was I?

    • the laundry room upper cabinets (so I still have to dig into that stoopid lower cabinet that all those plastic grocery bags are stuffed in but it’s scary in there. Really.)

    But I should get credit for some things never, ever being disorganized.

    IMG_4707.JPG

    They’re always perfect. Except when the MoH empties the dishwasher and just puts the wooden spoons on top of the steel utensils, or the measuring cups in this drawer instead of the one next to it. And the wire whips? You have to put them in a particular way. Because.

    The rack below it is also organized by color: greens, reds, blues. So probably a little touch of OCD to add to the mild hoarding tendencies and clutter victim state.

    You could come and help me out since Martha hasn’t accepted my offer yet. You know, maybe hook me up with a nice set of shelves for this lame coat closet that builders still insist on including around here, which is truly ridiculous considering we never have to wear coats. Ever. Shelves would be great. Could you get right on that, please? I need the space for my kitchen overflow.

    And these built in cabinets? What are they for other than hiding things? My cats love to sleep in them, but that’s not the best idea considering everything in the cabinet gets hair all over it and then has to be washed. What would you use them for? Suggestions when you have time, please?

    Well, after you’ve helped that lady who has 75 tons of trash in her house. Which is just plain weird.

    Thanks for your time today. Maybe we can do lunch and discuss the possibilities. Yes?

    Have your people call my people.

    Sincerely,

    Me.

    p.s. Do you know anyone who does windows?

  • There’s No Vacationing in Bloggsville.

    This business of blogging during the summer is rather interesting. I have come to realize how much I expect certain individuals to just “be out there” and when they have the audacity to go on vacation? Well, it’s kinda quiet in Bloggsville. The kind of quiet that happens when you arrive at a friend’s front porch and knock on the door expecting them to be there, and then they’re not. But you’re still there under that porch light. The one with the golden glow that hasn’t stopped the moths from practicing their persistent dance around its perimeter. Standing there. Alone. Holding the tuna casserole you baked especially to share. *ewww* I’m thinking a few nights there were actually crickets chirping just loudly enough to punctuate those bloggers’ absence.

    Vacationing?

    You were vacationing? Is that allowed? I mean, come on.

    There’s no vacationing in Bloggsville.

    What? Your life matters, and you have a family? Whoa. Where’s your commitment to the cause? Your dedication? Your principles? Sheesh.

    And no, I wasn’t getting even by not writing since Friday. Technically, I wrote that wonkin’ meme on my other blog, so that counts. You know we have weekend-itis around here. We christened the opening of our local race track this past weekend by flopping down in our sand chairs, stretching out our legs, lazing in the overcast greyness of the day and slapping two dollar bets on the “grey horse,” “number 8,” “that good jockey,” or the “50/1” horse.

    Where the Turf Meets the Surf

    Okay, so those are the kind of bets I make. And I usually make the bet to place or show — rarely win. Why? It’s economical. More chances to actually win something. I think I cashed in on a whole $3.20 on one horse. Is that cool, or what? That’s like income to me about now. Let’s see — earn over 100% on an investment that pays out in less than two minutes while I’m sitting on my caboose. Not bad. Not bad at all. My husband does the whole numbers thing — of course. The Racing Form, past performance, adjustments in class, blah, blah, blah…I usually do as well as he does for all his analysis. It’s a numbers addiction. I’m telling you. Numbers…Mmmmmm…numberzzzzzzzzz.. On the way home, we were treated to a lovely sunset and a view of the hot air balloons that launch from Del Mar each evening. Wouldn’t that be something to do… Um… Honey?

    Balloons at Sunset

    If you add up all the weekends we’ve been making like tourists, it comes close to a vacation. It’s fairly easy to pretend to be on a vacation here, which is nice. We have successfully avoided the Zoo and Seaworld — which is about 10 minutes from our house — but I did see a gleam in my husband’s eye the other day when the Zoo came up, because they have “Nights at the Zoo.” Has anyone figured out all the animals are asleep? What do you look at for hoot’s sake? Owls?

    It looks like our turn for a real vacation is just around the corner. We weren’t sure we were going to make it, but it looks like we’ll be gone for about eight days with friends and their families. No hotels. No maids, no room service, and lake water as cold about as warm as the ocean in Paradise. All night poker games and trashy romance or crime novels. We’re chipping in on a Lake Tahoe rental near the beach (completely more cost effective to stay on the Left Coast). So we’ll be cooking up a storm, and making beds ourselves. Raiding the refrigerator in the night. Parading in “public” in our jammies. And swimming, and hiking, a possible sunset cruise on a catamaran, and horseback riding? Water skiing? Kayaks? Maybe. I’m sure there’s a casino visit or two on the agenda as well.  Fun will be had by all. Well, except maybe for my youngest whom we’re dragging along. We were hoping to bring along his cousin, but that didn’t work out. The doldrums of pseudo only-childness at the age of 15. We’ll keep him hopping and he’s a good sport, so all should be quite well.

    My older boys will hold down the fort while we’re away and put a dent in the food in the freezer and fridge. I’m sure I’ll have a wealth of hairballs and pet yack to scrape off the rug when we return. I think it’s the way the mules get even with us for leaving them.

    Of course, like the very responsible person that I am, I will try to keep you enthralled from afar. I’ll bet you just can’t wait. But if I can’t figure out how to do it, then I want you to remember those crickets chirping mournfully in the dark when you click up to my bloggstep and I’m not home.

    Just don’t throw your Swedish Meatball Delight at me.