kellementology

life according to me

Tag: Stuff

  • Fooled

    Do you ever have days where you’re up early and feel as if you can do just about anything?  That was me today with the sun not more than a glow behind the mountains and everyone still fast asleep.  But that was three hours ago, and all I’ve accomplished is consume two cups of a very dark Brazilian coffee I found at a local Latin market, and a rather large bowl of Wheeties.

    I’ve flitted from the website of a cooking group I belong to expecting to see this month’s challenge posted (it wasn’t…) to a photography site where I continue to read about how to improve the lighting in my photos and how to build my own lightbox, wondering if any of the boxes in our garage are large enough to work so I don’t have to get in the car before it’s absolutely necessary today.

    I gaze through the stats on my food blog and wonder how it’s possible for the number of page views its recorded are possible since my last check and where they’re coming from.  That takes me to who is so I can research an IP address even though I know that never really tells me anything helpful.

    All the while, I’m making a mental list of what I’ll accomplish today and the time is steadily ticking.  Always ticking.  And to make matters worse, I’ve activated the voice on my Mac to let me know the time on the hour and half hour because I lose track of it so often now, engrossed in too many things all at one time, wanting to do them all, and able to finish only one or two.  It’s truly annoying.

    I’ve wasted at least a half hour searching for an article I saved not too long ago knowing I had something to say about it and now  can’t find it.  It’s no wonder since I bookmark extensively using delicious, Evernote, and Firefox.  I’ve searched, and it’s just not there.  So then the wind goes out of my sails, and I scan my sidebar to visit someone — anyone —  arriving there and marveling not only over their writing, but the lots and lots of people who comment there.  I even visit some of the commentors, thinking about the little community this person has built.  Or is it acquired?  No matter.  It exists.  People take the time to stop and say something instead of, “Nice.”  or “Looks terrific.”

    I remember those days.

    It’s what I get for defecting almost permanently to foodland.

    Goodness.  I’m here so infrequently now I even get spam telling me they can’t figure out my posting schedule.  How hilarious is that?  Um, can you tell us what your posting schedule is so we can spam you more than we already do?  kthxbai.

    It’s almost 10 now, and so I must make some decisions about this chilly, grey….wait.

    It’s April Fools Day!

    Clearly, the joke is on me.

    Thinking I’d actually accomplish something.

    Right.

  • Dust, Old Things & Memories

    Somehow when we started all of this construction business, I figured it would be fun to post the ups and downs of going through the mess I know is involved.  Best laid plans.  What seemed like forever was really only about six weeks, so I should have been able to write about some of it, but it’s not like we were renovating the Taj Mahal.

    I guess putting up with this most recent mess isn’t such a bad way to live if in the process I can once again discover the joys of good housekeeping.  *insert loud snorting and guffawing here* But I tell you, the old body just isn’t what it used to be.  Hauling furniture up and down the stairs may sound like a great idea for working the glutes, but I pay for whatever gain I may get with excruciating pain in my arms.  Imagine a hot pole being stabbed through your arm every few seconds if you type, or cook, or grip anything.  Lovely.  I am seriously good at sucking it up, however.  I come from a very long line of women who just grin and bear it.  Imagine the badges we’ll get when we reach those pearly gates.

    But I am enjoying putting things back in order.  Having to look at all of it in dusty piles and eliminating a few places I used for storage has forced me to reconsider some of my possessions.  If I actually knew how to use eBay and didn’t mind mailing things, I’d have a roaring business ahead of me, but it’s more challenging than that.

    When I look at many of my things, I can’t say they have any but sentimental value.  For the most part, they remind me of times in my life that were filled with hope and some dreams that never quite came to fruition.  When I look at them, I smile, remember, and know that it’s fine that none of it happened, but stuffing it all in a box to sit in the garage doesn’t seem right.  So I’m sorting through it all and wondering what stays and what goes.  What matters and what doesn’t.

    What matches…

    Because when you get right down to it, if I don’t think it matches, it’s outta here.  Well, maybe not quite that harshly.  There’s more of a routine that goes something like this:

    1)  Move the item to a spot where it’s less noticeable — like the office upstairs.  It’s the “I love it, but there’s no place to put it” graveyard.  Nobody ventures up to the land of the Resident Teen but us, so I can put my items up there to sit for a while.  A long while.

    2)  After I’ve given the item all the love and attention it’s going to get, and the layer of dust on it makes it appear somewhat like a chia pet, it goes in a box that’s headed for the closet. Any closet will do.  It’s still in the house, and maybe comes out at certain times of the year — maybe —  but clearly, things aren’t looking good for it.

    3)  Once the box is full, it’s moved down to the garage to sit along side other similar boxes.  When I walk by the boxes, I’m reminded how much I liked those items, and oh aren’t they cute and I should go through them to decide what will stay and what will go.  Later.  Much later.

    4)  When we get tired of not being able to park both of our cars in the garage and actually clean it, I sort through the items, keep a few for old time’s sake and donate the rest.

    The time is seriously now for one of those donations.  I will wave lovingly from the garage as the truck pulls away with my memories hoping they will find a new home.

    *sigh*

  • Crickets. I hear crickets…

    I sit at my Mac on an enormous grey exercise ball scanning all of my open windows.  There’s twhirl in the upper corner — not nearly as noisy as it has been, but there, its colorful avatars proudly displaying each person’s thoughts, comments, responses, and taunts to visit yet another link.  And email is open, too, even though it shouldn’t be considering an audible reminder lets me know when I have a tweet, or more junk mail.

    Blurb is open too, as I’m compiling a friend’s family recipes into a cookbook.  But I’m here instead.  I swore I heard crickets coming from the general vicinity and thought I might fill the space a bit with words that don’t add up to much more than my thoughts, which I suppose are something.

    I’ve learned that in order to write more than what I’m taking up space with at this moment, I’ve got to read and be involved.  To do something other than what I’ve been doing.  I’ve also learned that I can’t wake up at 4am and expect to function at this point in the day.

    None of this is unfortunate, however.  In fact, it’s how I’ve always wondered life might be if I had the choice to do what I wanted and when from one day to the next.  My house is even clean.  My cupboards organized.  The last bit of cat crap sprayed on the wall in her last explosion decontaminated.  The nasty white carpet I’ve complained about for the past year and a half soon to be torn from the floor and replaced by indescribably beautiful wood.

    And we’re going to Las Vegas this weekend.

    Like how I slipped that one in there?  You’re thinking we just went, right?  Actually it was a year ago, I think.

    This means I have to go shopping you know.  Maybe a few tops to wear with my jeans.  Pretend I know how I’m supposed to dress…

    Like I could pretend even if I wanted to.

    It’s more fun to watch the the twenty somethings doing their party thing — from afar, mind you. *remembering that twentysomething girl barfing in a trash can last time…*

    But it will be relaxing as it always is, and there’s sure to be good food on our agenda.  What?  Like that’s a surprise.

  • Unfocusedness

    I figured it was time for one of my ADD posts. It should match my brain about now. So much for Wordless Wednesday, right?

    Le Blog: The orange is so not staying so hold on to your shorts. But I do like the layout. I just needed to find something that would run. Internet Explorer SUCKS and IE6 is not loving WordPress 2.5 or something. Well, that’s what I’m thinking, so to make sure I completely ignore Abraham Lincoln’s sage advice about not being able to please all the people all of the time, I’ve become a theme switching maniac. It won’t end anytime soon. But doods. Could you PLEASE upgrade your web browsers? It’s so not challenging. Give it a go. Hell. Splurge and download Firefox. It takes a few seconds. Firefox is terrific.

    American Noodle: Has anyone figured out that Jason doesn’t WANT to be on the show? He’s over it. It’s a game. David Arche-what-ever his shucky darn name is has turned into a male version of Mariah Carey, whom I less than enjoy listening to. I’ve never quite adapted to that whole up and down the register wailing that goes on in her songs. I do get that I’m beyond ancient, and that I am no authority on anything but what I believe sounds exceptional, but still. He’s got a good voice, but the judges are just pandering to whomever the Tweeners will choose. I’ve lost interest in his voice and his no longer believable “who me?” look of surprise when they sprinkle him with their judge-ness. They just want to be recognized as someone who gets credit for his inevitable famousness. The RTR actually got up to take a shower last night when David A was singing because he just can’t stand the hand waving squealing females in front of the stage any longer. David Cook deserves to win. Period.

    Hell’s Kitchen: Are these people for real this year? O. M. G. Do any of them actually know how to cook? I can’t figure out why we actually are spending time watching this disaster. It reminds me of why I don’t like reality shows. But hey, it’s family time. We have to watch something while we’re eating dinner (yes, that late sometimes…). and we can make fun of the nonsense together and the talking doesn’t exactly interfere with the show. Who knows?

    Vacation: Finally booked an apartment near the Campo di Fiore for the first four nights of our time in Rome this summer. I’ve got plans for that kitchen. Now, on to the Amalfi coast…I would love to stay in a little pensione…maybe schedule a trip to Capri…so many decisions, but moving along on the plans and starting to get excited. Finally.

    Politics: I am so tired of all the crap the talking heads are throwing around about the candidates. It’s beyond annoying and I’d love to market some personalized corks for each of their mouths. Big ones. Wouldn’t that be swell? I’m even more tired of people who don’t take the time to find out what they can about candidates, instead believing what the pundits say. How can anyone at this point in time actually think that the decision we’re going to make next November can be taken that lightly. Aren’t things screwed up enough in the country? Hell. In the world? I’m sooooooo looking forward to paying even more money for gasoline. Aren’t you? Yowza. I’m so cranky about it all, I can’t sit down long enough to articulately write anything specific about it. I’m disgusted. And I don’t want to hear Hilary dropping her ing endings or swilling beer with locals. It’s lame.

    Homefront: My mom is settling in here in Paradise. We went on a field trip down to the grocery store yesterday. You know, to show her some places to be familiar with. And while we were there, a rather distinguished elderly man, tall with a nice grey suit, stopped us while we were involved in a brainless discussion on what type of catfood our cats might like, and proceded to tell us four jokes. He was cute. But it was bizarre. Seriously. Then my mother ran into a woman she used to work with years ago and they talked for five minutes or so about life changing decisions like moving and giving away everything. When they were finished, Mom asked me, “Where are we going next?” and a man approaching her from behind leaned over her shoulder and said, “To the liquor store,” and she cracked up because I had just asked her if she wanted some Miller Lite. While in the checkout lane, the checker, someone I see regularly in the store blathered at us the whole time, and then told Mom she was gorgeous and that it was too bad his dad had just remarried. That he and his brother didn’t even like the new wife.

    Totally. Hilarious.

    Dooce: We used up an ENTIRE morning trying to figure out when you were going to be on the Today Show today. It TOTALLY cut into my blogging time. And when you were finally on, were you thinking you’d like to smack Kathy Lee Gifford as much as I did? What is up with women who “don’t like computers” because they can’t figure out how to use them so blame it on the computer. Huh? And you did want to pull her hair over the comments she made about Leta, right? I did. But Heather, your highlights and cut are looking terrific, girl. Way.

    And like I said. ADD.

  • Where does the afternoon go?

    Okay, okay.

     

    So I know the headers are not quite right with the color of the rest of the page. I’m working on it.

    I was never fond of the aqua color that is prevalent in the page and have just tolerated it. Quite the exercise for someone like me. Too bad that exercise doesn’t burn calories. And I’m tired of the font, and the “kellementology” thingy above my header which has to be there. I tell yah.

    But I will be messing around with the font and colors, so if you don’t like something, by all means, let it rip. I can’t promise I’ll listen to a single thing you say, but it’s free to comment on my blog, yanno? And for a small fee will offer suggestions about how you might bump up your authoritative voice if your aim is to actually get someone to hear you.

    I’d be just fine if I could sit up here all night and figure it out. But there are so may have tos, like cooking dinner, and brushing my teeth, and sleeping, and American Noodle. Speaking of which…

    …how did you think the guys did last night? Hmmmm? Any favorites? Anybody you think should be voted off the noodle? Do tell! And will the biker type chickster get voted off this week? I’m thinking yes…

    Because that’s a whole lot more interesting than discussing what happened in Ohio yesterday. What is up? Could we please get everyone out there to vote? What is so difficult about it? All you have to do is make a mark. Or poke a button. It’s not really challenging. Just make sure it’s for the right person.

     

    Obama, Obama, Obama…

  • There’s a hitch in my giddy-up.

    I need some vitameetaveggemin or something. Today I feel how one feels when one has used up her happy quota. It’s exhausting being in a good mood. I’m completely pooped. Worn out. Outta gas. It doesn’t mean I’m not smiling, however. Of course, it’s only because I’m in an exhausted stupor. You know, instead of an energetic stupor, if there is such a thing.

    Part of it is caused by an ever growing list of computer/blog/design related things. I just can’t find the same amount of time I used to in order to get it done. I’ve been looking for a new theme, and am less than thrilled by nearly all of them. This one is great except for the comment glitch that Cooper graciously offered a fix for and I haven’t gotten around to fixing. How rude is that? Good thing I don’t do this for a living, right? Jeez. And part of it is because I’ve been up way late for a few nights and am seriously dragging. Too much sunshine and fresh air with no beauty rest can’t possibly be good for a house potato, can it?

    But it is frustrating, because I truly enjoy it all, and my cup’s feeling a bit half empty over the whole thing. Plus, I’m seriously behind on my blog visits — another thing that makes me smile. S.L.A.C.K.E.R. I know. I’ll work on it.

    And I’ve been messing around with that cat in my sidebar. It’s very addicting.

    (more…)