Some of today's events.

So we bought a new refrigerator and a new dishwasher.  They were both delivered today.

(1)  Appliance delivery guy is legally bound from installing the dishwasher because a previous owner did not move the stop valve to the main floor while renovating the kitchen.  We find it in the basement.

(2)  The faucet thingie to the stop valve is rusted shut.

(3)  We discover that the dishwasher was hard-wired to the house.  I stand in a corner while David swears a lot.

(4)  The stop valve finally shuts, or so we thought, and then David unhooks the dishwasher.  Water gushes out, all over a panel of live electrical stuff.  Kitchen starts flooding.  House loses electricity.

(5)  The dishwasher can't be removed, even after all the events above are resolved, because there is a copper water line running in front of the unit.  The line will have to be cut.

(6)  Plumbers arrive.  Two hours and $234 later, they cut the line and install the dishwasher...

(7)  ... incorrectly.  Dishwasher nearly falls out of its space when we're loading it with dishes.  We find it isn't fastened to the counter at the top.

David, trying to secure the dishwasher.  He'll have to do some tweaking later, but it's good for right now.

(8)  When the plumbers are leaving, we realize that we haven't seen Bellatrix in over an hour.  We remember that one of the plumbers left the door open, and the screen door doesn't latch.  We search the neighborhood for about an hour, by the end of which I'm hysterically sobbing.  David found her in a hole in a basement wall.  She was fine and is now napping at my feet.

My little bear is safe with Mommy.

(9)  Exhaustion.

Though after all that happened, we discovered a decent southern BBQ food truck in town.  yaaaaay.  

I'll be back soon. I promise.

"Why are we forever weaving new ties to bind us to the earth..." -- Davy Jones

I was in a conversation over lunch a couple weeks ago when the group started to talk about politics... as that's apparently a pleasurable topic of discussion... and I said something about how some odd person I knew didn't like Obama.  Because, in my circle of friends and family, it's really weird and fascinating if someone votes Republican.

So, when the other person in the group said, "Well, no one here voted for Obama," it was a natural reaction when I nearly laughed lemonade out my nose.  Then he was like, "I'm serious.  No one here voted for Obama."  All I could say was, "Uh...[looking at everyone like they're lunatics]... and why?"

The basic answer was money.  Their short-sighted version of what should be happening with money.  Their I-just-hate-Obama-so-I-won't-pay-attention-to-anything-else-but-the-fact-that-I-hate-him stupidity.

All I could tell them was, "Well, I didn't vote based on my paycheck."

One man said, "But it's your life."

My response:  I laughed at him.  Then said, nearly verbatim, "My paycheck is not my life.  If money were my life, I would be a disappointing excuse of a person.  I voted based on human rights.  If you want to vote for someone that will maybe make you more money in the meantime, but make sure that no one else has any -- and for that matter, will make sure that you have no money by the time you're 65 -- then knock yourself out.  If you want to vote for someone that will make you more money in the meantime, but also make sure that women are sent back to the kitchen and gays are sent back to mental hospitals, then knock yourself out.  Really -- physically knock yourself out.  For the sake of humanity.  Please."

---

In other news, I slept wrong on my neck two nights ago, so I now have one of those hot pad thingies on my shoulders.  Doesn't help that I'm leaning over a laptop right now, though.

In another news, things have been dramatic lately, and I can't blog about it because it isn't exactly public knowledge for people in both my personal and professional realms.

I had so much more text, making that last sentence a paragraph.  However, because the universe hates me, there are apparently some peers within my professional world who read my blog.  (And, I seriously ask you:  Why?  What is so interesting about "girl with cats who cooks and swears a lot and knows way too much about The Monkees"?  Don't you guys have like, kids or something?)  This is the reason I haven't posted in nearly two months -- I don't know what the fuck I can say anymore.

But I'll be back soon.  I promise.

Sunday Confessions Link Up aaaaaaand a special birthday!

First things first!  A very happy birthday to Michael Nesmith, who is turning 70!!  He shared a birthday with Davy Jones, who would have been 67 today.

From R.I.P. Davy Jones

And now, it's that time of the week!  If you're interested (and you should be), link up with the lovely Alyx and publicize your sins, baby.

1.  I woke up at about 3:30 p.m. today.

I have been sick for over two weeks, my sleep schedule is weird, and... um, Adrianne Curry was doing a live chat last night.  I know it's weird, but I think that she and I have a lot in common -- nerd stuff, being from the Midwest, etc.  Thing is, the chat was just full of boys going "HEY TALK ABOUT BOOBS" and she would then actually talk about boobs.  The whole thing gave me a headache.

2.  I received Mastering the Art of French Cooking for Christmas, and I'm in love with the pages.

Seriously.  I just run my hands over the pages.  They're all soft.

3.  I'm currently upset because David is going to a party tonight, and I'm not "allowed" or whatever.

Apparently only David's co-workers are invited, even though they're going to my favorite bar/restaurant (The Checkerboard), and with David going out to eat, I'll have to make dinner for one tonight, which is depressing, and I'd much rather go out and have some of The Checkerboard's broccoli (which I'm obsessed with), but I'm not allowed.  :(  So if I do go and get dinner there, I'll have to like, pretend not to notice David, having fun with his party.  

4.  I'm seeing Les Mis tomorrow night, and I'm afraid I'll cry during the movie in front of my family.

That would be embarrassing.  I am, however, looking forward to this annual tradition:  On New Year's Eve, I go out with my mom and her sister (and spouse) (and now David) (and sometimes a boy I'm dating, if applicable... not applicable this year) to dinner, exchange Christmas gifts, and see a movie.  So far, we have always managed to pick a movie that later wins an Academy Award!

5.  My cats provide me with hours of entertainment.

Sometimes, I seriously just sit in the living room and watch them being stinkers.  They chase each other around, play with ping pong balls, take naps in funny poses.  Right now I'm watching Micky trying to awkwardly sit on a comforter -- she doesn't quite fit into one area of it, but she wants to be there so she'll make it happen.  Bellatrix is on the other side of the room, doing her "lying on her side and not giving a fuuuuck" position.  They really are just too funny.

Yep.  I'm a crazy cat lady now.

So I used to be in a band.

The other night, I was wandering around the Internet and found an old MySpace page dedicated to a band I belonged to back in 2008 -- The Funky Transactions.

I'm in the background

We were actually pretty good.  I listened through all the songs that we'd uploaded on MySpace, although we had like 20 more songs than what was on there (hmmm... do I have my old song notebook?); I watched our videos, and even though the A/V quality was poor, I was able to remember the notes; I looked at the pictures, which a couple of friends had taken of us.

Sigh.  How exciting it was to be 23.

Kiley and I met in middle school -- I remember playing with my mom's face masks with her and a mutual friend, laughing as we peeled them from our faces in front of the bureau mirror in my parents' room.  Years later, we ended up in the same sociolinguistics class at Purdue, and while we were catching up, it came up that we both played musical instruments.  At some point, one of us exclaimed, "Dude!  We should start a fuckin' BAND!"

Taken by Sandra

After class, we went to the study area in the union's soda shop with our notebooks and worked out a game plan -- how often we'd rehearse, what kind of sound we'd have, how many instruments we could each play.  I'd never been in a real band before, other than tinkering around with friends growing up, but Kiley had, so I was happy that someone actually knew what she was doing.

Then suddenly, we were at my house, which I rented with my then-boyfriend in downtown Lafayette, practicing chords and covering Regina Spektor songs, with Kiley on acoustic guitar and me on my grandmother's piano (which I had to buy at an auction because my sociopath uncle sold all her stuff).

Here's us just fucking around early on -- this was an unfinished chorus and bridge, and it became a "real" song later:

The Funky Transactions - 1

The Funky Transactions | Myspace Video

Our song-writing strategy was simple:  I'd never written a song before, and Kiley wrote songs in her sleep.  She'd come over for rehearsal with a new idea for a song, complete with most of the lyrics, and then I'd make shit up on the piano to the chords she already had.  That was probably the one area where I was solid:  I knew chords.

Kiley knew some of the chord names, but mostly she just played what sounded cool and didn't really know how to communicate what it was (and that's not a bad thing -- Paul McCartney couldn't read sheet music either, and I suppose he did okay with himself).  I'd studied music since I was a kid, learning chords and scales, being in the school band for eight years, taking a music theory course at Purdue, performing with the Lafayette Citizens Band, etc.  I was able to figure out, with relative ease, the chords Kiley was playing on guitar and then match something up with the piano.  It helped that she kept her guitar tuned really well.

Before I knew it, Kiley was talking about playing live, which naturally freaked me the fuck out.  We did end up playing some live shows, and she was so cool with all of it, but my hands shook the entire time, and the shows are a blur to me now.  I don't remember making any big mistakes, but I do remember us starting a song over at the Knickerbocker after a couple of measures because it didn't sound right.  I don't know what we changed the second time, but it sounded fine after that.

Taken by someone I don't know.  Both my now-ex-fiancé and my father are in this picture. OOH GUESS THEM!

At the Skylight Coffee House.  Peter Tork played on this stage two years later.

Kiley had a friend who owned a recording studio in what used to be... I think a furniture store?  Or a school maybe?  We went in and recorded some songs in there.  I was less nervous about this part, because it wasn't live, and no one was looking at me.  Plus, I mean... the attitude that comes with, "yeah dude, I'm in the fuckin' studio, layin' down some fuckin' tracks, y'all."  Some of the songs we recorded are on the MySpace page still.  We also had a photographer friend take pictures of us one of the times we went to the studio.

Recording.  Photo is by our friend Angie, but I don't know if she's interested in consulting as a photographer right now.  If she lets me know, then I'll link to her stuff in this caption later.

Hallway in this school-furniture store place where the studio was.  Also, I was pretty uncomfortable with having my picture taken.  I still am.

We ended up going our separate ways after several months.  I don't blame her -- I was about to graduate from Purdue, I was career-oriented, wanted to work in a cubicle.  Which, I know now, is... well, not at all what we'd been aiming for.  Kiley ended up traveling, I think, and then she settled down to start a family (and out of all the babies I see on my Facebook newsfeed, he's one of the cutest -- and those who know me well know that this is actually saying something).

I'm glad I found those songs and videos, though.  Lots of good memories.  She brought me out of my shell -- when I first thought about performing on stage or recording music, I wanted to shit myself.  Now, however, I know that I did something that terrified me, and I enjoyed it.  And, I hope, other people got something out of it as well.

The Funky Transactions - Shotgun

The Funky Transactions | Myspace Video

You can barely hear Kiley in this last video, but I liked this song.

And us live -- sorry for the poor quality... it's from my ex's phone:

"Means to an End" LIVE SHOW

The Funky Transactions | Myspace Video

Anyone else out there have a band, or were you ever in one?  Ever been terrified on stage, or are you totally comfortable?

Nigel Barker is a bit pervy

What I do on a Thursday night when I have a bad cold and we're expecting snow:

• Make five little cups of Easy Mac
• Eat them, slowly and sadly
• Watch America's Next Top Model
• Ibuprofen, nose spray, vapor rub... in that order
• Look at my copy of Les Misérables as if I might actually read it again before I see the movie, but I know that I'm just going to skim the Wikipedia page instead
• Fuck, that was the last tissue
• I'm not done Christmas shopping, and that freaks me out, because as an atheist I'm supposed to be all like, "lol wut holiday"... but I don't want to be offensive by not buying things for people to celebrate something religious, or something?  Unless you're one of those weird people that deny any Pagan influence on Christmas and say phrases like "war on Christmas" and "reason for the season," and in that case I'm just going to tell you to get a grip and read something that's actually non-fiction
• Tyra Banks is kind of a psycho, but all she does is work... at some point, girl, just go have a nap... take a vacation... relax your smizing 
• This turned into more than a to-do list

Anyone else been sick during a holiday?  Is it as miserable as I'm expecting it to be?

"Terror starts at home"

Both of my parents were school teachers for 35-40 years each. Never once, not even after Columbine, did I think to ask them if they were afraid to go to work. Now I'm wondering if they ever were -- if they ever looked around their classrooms and worked out a plan for if anything horrible was happening -- "Where can I hide? How many students can fit there? Do these windows open? Who's the bravest kid in each of my classes? ... who's the unhappiest kid in each of my classes?"

I was stressed about work this week.  I was stressed about chores at home that need to get done.  

I don't have kids, but I understood when I saw that one of my Facebook friends, who lives here in Indiana, left work in the middle of the day today to grab her toddler out of daycare... just because she wanted to hold him.  Her son was in no danger at daycare, but the people at an elementary school in a sleepy Connecticut town assumed they were in no danger either.  

At work today, we all stopped for a while to watch real-time news online.  We still went to our meetings, sent our emails, etc., but for about ten minutes, we were just silent and sick to our stomachs.  

These were children.  I first said "innocent children," but everyone who is a victim of one of these acts is innocent.  I don't want to take away from the adults today that were victims -- parents, educators... servants to our society... and in the end, all we can ask is "why?"  The cliche exists for a reason, I suppose.

As an atheist, there are times when you wish you could pray -- then you'd actually feel like you're doing something.  But also as an atheist, you wonder how people can believe in a god at a time like this.  

I don't really know what else to say.  

Sunday Confessions!

It's time for...

Sunday Confessions!  If you're interested, link up with the lovely Alyx!

1.  I still haven't finished my Thanksgiving post.  Or any posts on the two Monkees concerts I went to.

I have pictures and everything -- the pictures are even on Picasa right now -- but I'm just Thanksgiving-ed out.  I just don't think I could ever adequately document something like this.  I was testy all day, and in the end everything was great, but I've just been in vacation mode since.

As for the Monkees concerts, Picasa won't "accept" the pictures from my phone for some reason.  It's total bullshit, I know.

2.  Sometimes I like to be public... sometimes I don't.

There are times when the (15) on my Facebook tab doesn't bother me.  But sometimes, I don't like to put it all out there -- and apparently, someone is keeping an eye on what I post on my blog -- I know that to be a writer means having to cringe occasionally, so I'm working on this.  As for the person that is scrutinizing everything I write and attempting to censor me (yes -- someone used the word "censor" pertaining to my blog):  Dude.  Get a fucking life.  If I point out that someone is being stupid, what do you suggest I do?  I don't make people look bad.  Those people make themselves look bad.  Nothing has happened to make anything better.  And I am not deleting this post for you.

I write what I think.  I send it "out there."  Get fucking over it.  If you don't want to be represented poorly, then don't be a fucking idiot.  

OH.  And I use curse words.  Fucking oops.  

3.  My nails look like shit now that Kate is gone.

She had this whole trendy thing of painting her nails one color, then painting a glittery polish on her ring fingers.  I started to do the same, but I painted the glitter crap on my middle fingers.  I just thought that I could show people something shiny while I'm flipping them off.

Now that she's gone, my nails are bare and bitten.

4.  Why does Candice Bergen get all the bitchy roles these days?

I just watched "Sex and the City" back to back with Sweet Home Alabama.  They have Ms. Bergen playing the ball-buster man-hating career woman both times.  Has it always been this way?

5.  I don't know what the fuck to do with my hair.

It's blond on the bottom.  It's dark brown/red on the top.  The red is from my dad's side, I think.  It's at an awkward length, and an even more-awkward state of damage from... let's see... cutting it all off, being unhappy with the length, then perming it, then bleaching it blond, then trying to dye it dark again (with only semi-permanent dye)...

I want my long, dark hair back.  

This needs to be said

I'll post about Thanksgiving later, but for now:

Vinny the Kitty

I met this cat tonight, who has a hematoma on his ear from some type of trauma.  His rescuer is very close to her goal for the cat's operation. She also had the cat neutered.  I can't very much afford to contribute; I just wanted to get the word out.

And now Thanksgiving, i.e. "Gourmet Thursday"

12:36:  The last handful of ice that I put into the brining mixture must have worked, because it's finally cool enough to DO ITS STUPID JOB.

I cut open the turkey's packaging and removed all the inside stuff -- those things went into a Tupperware for the fridge.  I also removed several chunks of ice, but that's pretty normal.  My hand, by this time, was red and not really functioning.  It... was pretty cold.

David held the brining bag while I rinsed the turkey off a bit.  I then placed the turkey breast down into the bag.  While I poured the brine mixture into the bag over the turkey, David thoroughly scrubbed the pan in which the turkey had thawed.  We sealed the bag, placed it back into the pan, and put it into the fridge.  I was so concerned about logistics that I forgot to put any more herbs into the bag first, but seriously -- who's going to eat my turkey tomorrow and think, "Oh wow, she obviously brined this with fresh rosemary and Turkish olive oil."

I might get up at some point during the night to rotate the turkey, as the brine doesn't cover the whole thing.  It is, however, breast side down, so I'm a little torn on that.

1:15:  #ReplaceSongTitlesWithTurkey is trending on Twitter, and I did my part (I was very clever, of course), but the more I read through the trend, the more the word "turkey" looks misspelled and... just increasingly weird.  I remembered that there was an actual explanation for that, so I'm now on Wikipedia while I take a break from nagging David and peeling eggs:  Semantic Satiation

1:19:  Also, Jamais vu.  The word "turkey" is so fucking weird.

11:35:  Taking a quick break to update.  I got up around 8:30, showered, and started getting the turkey ready.  And damn, that thing was heavy.  I put it in a pan, surrounded it with some veggies and broth, chocked it full of butter, garlic, and onions.  It's now in the oven.

I've got green beans in a crockpot instead of a skillet -- my mom gave me the idea when she said she was bringing asparagus with cream in a crockpot (which I'm really looking forward to).

David's home for lunch right now, and he's tidying up a bit (YAY THANK YOU) before heading back to work.

Everything is pretty relaxed right now, actually.  I do expect this to change.

___________________________________________________

Oh, and it so changed.  With David at work, I simply did not have enough hands.  I waited way too long to update for the rest of Thanksgiving, but I was extremely exhausted.

All the food, however, turned out delicious.  The turkey was moist and tender, all the dishes people brought were wonderful.  My green beans actually didn't do too well, but I didn't really care, because I was totally winging that dish.

That's my brother, being silly.  His eight-year-old daughter set the table, and I think she did a great job.

Thanksgiving Wednesday

I took the day off work to prepare for Thanksgiving. Our Internet keeps disregarding our service, so I'll just keep updating on my phone.

Tomorrow, I am hosting Thanksgiving for up to 16 people. omfg.

Yesterday, my dad took me shopping. I got ingredients for the following dishes:
- Cranberry, Sausage and Apple Stuffing (which I guess is technically "dressing" because I'm not stuffing the turkey with it)
- Cranberry Spinach Salad with walnuts and ingredients for the salad dressing
- Garlic Mashed Potatoes (red)
- spinach dip
- deviled eggs (my phone wanted me to say "devolved" eggs...not sure which is more true)
- green beans, which I'll whip up in a skillet
- rolls
- stuff for The Turkey That Ate Indiana. I got a 20.25 lb. turkey this year. I'm a bit nervous it might kill me in my sleep.

So today, David just went to the store and spent more money on alcohol, cleaning products, and tobacco than what my father spent on the food. I haven't lifted a finger yet, other than to watch Monkees episodes on YouTube and make some Easy Mac.

When he gets home, we're going to have lunch and then start cleaning, going from upstairs to down. I'm making some dishes today: the spinach dip, deviled eggs, salad dressing, and brine for the turkey (to be implemented tonight).

6:12:  Taking a break from cleaning.  Just brushed about ten pounds of cat hair off the dining room chairs.  Just realized we don't have anywhere near 16 chairs.  Some people will just have to sit on the table.  I never did get my act together enough to make a centerpiece that someone on Pinterest probably made from scratch.  Thing is, the only time I feel like going to Hobby Lobby is on Sundays.  OH and I didn't feel like it.

The only other thing I've done now besides clean (and watch the latest "My Drunk Kitchen") is drink a Rock Star and then fall out of commission for about twenty minutes because Rock Stars and Red Bulls make me hilariously sick to my stomach.  I say "hilarious" because even though I feel like puking, I'm still running around crazy-eyed and talking in half sentences, spraying Windex on random furniture (none of it made of glass).

Also, after David finished tidying up with the front porch, he walked in with a big yellow bag containing the phone book and was like, "What the fuck is this?"

7:12:  Did not deliberately try to update exactly an hour after my last one.

We've started cleaning the kitchen, because I don't think eating something from a stove that's covered in cat hair and dried marinara sauce is very appetizing... could just be me?

I've also started on some food:  I'm thawing the spinach for spinach dip (by putting the package in a bowl of warm water), and I've got the eggs in a stockpot, heating on the stove.  When that starts boiling, I'll remove it from heat, cover it, and let it sit for 17 minutes.  Boom, hard boiled eggs.  The difficult part is removing the shells from those bitches.  Not looking forward to that.  Last year, I had eggshell in my hair nearly all day.

Once the spinach is thawed, I'll need to drain the crap out of it.  I do this by wrapping it in paper towels and wringing it dry.  This process makes my sink look like a swamp.

I think I'll do the brining part last, because that works out practically with our cleaning schedule, but I know that it's really important to let the turkey brine for as long as possible.  I really should also check to see if it's thawed all the way.  But... but "Into the West" is on...

9:08:  I was boiling salt water to prepare the brine, and this happened:

The water boiled over, despite me using olive oil.  Oh well.  Another thing to clean.

David has been watching Avatar for a while now... I'm going to need to start nagging to get the living room, dining room, the rest of the kitchen, and back deck clean.  He has to do it tonight while I'm doing food prep because he has to work tomorrow.  HE HAS TO FREAKING WORK TOMORROW.  From 8 to "2-ish."  Son of a bitch.

I'll have to do everything myself all morning... which is okay, I guess, because that's how it was when I hosted my first Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, the spinach dip is made and chilling in the fridge.  The hard boiled eggs are also chilling in the fridge for a while, because I just saw an article saying to chill them for much longer than I have in the past.  I'm hoping this will make them easier to peel.

I've gotta let the brine cool for a while.  Like reeeally cool.  I should've started it hours ago because of this, probably.  This is because you can't put a raw turkey in a warm brine.  Unless you want you and your guests to get sick, and in that case, you're kind of a twisted bastard.

Will start on the salad dressing soon.

11:05:  Salad dressing done.  BRINE STILL HOT.  I've put ice in it and everything.  House still not clean. :(

12:12:  House is much cleaner because I told David I was getting "nervous."  BRINE IS STILL FUCKING HOT.  WHAT THE FUCKIES.

I suppose I should now start a "Thanksgiving Thursday" post.