| Wednesday, March 29, 2006 |
|
Kegerator Kegerator, oi oi oi! |
|
|
Oh no. It has happened and all my hard work to get rid of my fat ass was in vain. The kegerator is up and running and delicious homebrew is on tap. ACK! And it doesn't even live in the basement like in my former life. It is right in the mud room, barely off the kitchen, staring loomingly at me with it's chalkboard painted sides. That now makes 3 refrigerators and 2 deep freezes at the farm. It's out of control! Take a tour of it at: http://www.lawrencebrewers.org/forum/viewtopic.php?t=110 I am trying to figure out how to get taps run to he deck on the other side of the wall so we don't have to get up at all when we're chillaxin' in the shade this summer.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/29/2006 08:56:00 AM |
3 comments
|
| Tuesday, March 28, 2006 |
|
Slip sliding away |
|
|
I know a woman Became a wife These are the very words she uses To describe her life She said a good day Ain’t got no rain She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed And think of things that might have been Slip slidin’ away Slip slidin’ away You know the nearer your destination The more you’re slip slidin’ away April 1 was the deadline set for me by the Behavioral Sciences Regulatory Board, and I met it. Barely. With 3 days to spare I finally took that damn test. You know the one. The one that will allow me to qualify for all kinds of jobs that pay less than what I'm already doing and require me to work more, put my kid in after-school care, and drive at least 45 minutes one way to work. The one that allows me to put this behind my name: LMSW. It's done, and it doesn't matter if you get a 98 or a 78, you have to get a 70 to pass, and so I passed. Next deadline?: Monday night. Free State Brewery, 7:30. Cheap beer night and I can have one without feeling like a skanky cheater. The weight loss portion of the diet will be over officially, and I will be out on my best behavior and own recognizance to not gain back every pound I have worked hard to shed. I wish I could have a beer for every person who has said they would like to get me one when this day finally arrives, but I would be blind drunk after just a few of the rainchecks were cashed in and that is no fun for anybody. See you there, but don't feel like you have to buy me a beer. I sure hope Copperhead is on sale! I can feel one slipslidin down my scratchy throat right now.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/28/2006 04:19:00 PM |
3 comments
|
| Thursday, March 23, 2006 |
|
Feckless |
|
|
(w)reckless I have never been in a car wreck, she told me. But how many have you caused? I asked.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/23/2006 07:28:00 PM |
1 comments
|
|
That was the weirdest feeling ever! |
|
|
Last night, I got up at 3:36 after tossing and turning, and ate an orange and watched some weird guy on Food TV hang out in Hawaii and eat fresh pineapple. After the orange, I went to bed and began thinking about this thing I have been meaning to write down for a while now. I'll write it in just a minute. What was so weird, is that while I was thinking about the words, the W felt like it was crushing me. I was watching it push its way into the image in front of me and totally take over. I could hardly breathe it was suffocating me with its doubleyouness. I watched it squish me while I tried to squeak out a sound to ask for help.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/23/2006 07:24:00 PM |
1 comments
|
| Wednesday, March 22, 2006 |
|
Green Beer |
|
|
I am not a holiday greeter. I do not say Merry Christmas or Happy New Year or Happy Holidays, and especially not Happy St. Patrick's Day. All these words tumble out of my mouth awkwardly, without geniune feeling. But on March 17th, freezing my ass off in my Dale Evans outfit complete with swishing fringe and my hands curled into cups of metacarpalcicles under vintage lavendar gloves, I found my blueblue lips mouthing these words at complete strangers. But who's the stranger here? The people who so valiently weathered the cold to look at the complete idiots who donned ridiculous attire to ride floats for everyone's entertainment, or the idiots on the floats? I am firm in my belief that the people on the floats are much stranger than the audience, even in North Lawrence. While my cohorts smiled and waved with their bellies full of gin and Fresca and their mouths watering for the green beer to come, I was without antifreeze except for the shot of schnapps that I sureptitiously and greedily gulped off Becky's flask while in Trinity Lutheran Church. I am getting used to having fun without booze. I certainly do not miss the hangovers. I danced my sober ass off at Kelly Hunt with a dozen other people enjoying our private benefit concert, and then watched the Jayhawks go down in infamy, while the Shockers of WSU went on to the Sweet 16. You gotta love a mascot that is a cut hunk of wheat scraped into a shock and given a crazy mug that only its mother could love. Did you know that wheat and barley look almost exactly the same? You really can't tell the difference when you're driving down the road and their amber waves are swaying in the wind, except that most of the barley in the US is grown in North Dakota. So KU fans don't get to wave the wheat any more during the NCAA tourney, and barley doesn't grow in Kansas. And would a beer of any other color taste as sweet? Hops make beer bitter, so does losing in the first round.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/22/2006 11:04:00 AM |
0 comments
|
|
I am a lawyer and he's a sandwich |
|
|
I have become addicted to Sex and the City. Miranda just had her infatuation with the guy in the sandwich suit he kept saying "Eat me" when she walked by, and her response was "I am a lawyer and he's a sandwich." So Charlotte just married Trey even though he couldn't get it up. So this is what I have been reduced to: blogging about Carrie cheating on Aidan with Big and Charlotte marrying a man with erectile dysfunction.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/22/2006 10:49:00 AM |
1 comments
|
| Monday, March 20, 2006 |
|
Do I get Lance Armstrong? or cancer? |
|||
|
|||
| posted by Rosie @ 3/20/2006 08:50:00 AM |
2 comments
|
||
| Tuesday, March 14, 2006 |
|
Scooby doo life |
|
|
So, I am down 28.2 pounds, but according to BMI calculations, I can still lose 75 MORE pounds and be within normal weight parameters. Another 35 gone and I'll no longer be overweight, but back within normal ranges. Once in my adult life have I been within the "normal" category, and I was far from normal. I was scary thin, and obsessed with anything that went into my mouth. I was eating about 900 calories a day and riding my bike everywhere. I was very weird! My mom said I was so much more even-tempered without all that red meat in my diet. I eventually explained that I really had no will to live, and that my even-temperedness was just apathy for everything and everyone around me. You see, at 20, my mom put me on a diet, and spent a fortune to force me to lose weight. I was getting to marrying age and I needed to be made desirable so that some man could validate me by leering at me and deciding that I was worthy of his subtle abuse and less subtle manipulation for the rest of my days. My sister was a spinster at 28, and mom was not about to have 2 daughters who couldn't find husbands. I was a Velma, and Mom wanted a Daphne. Velma is amazing. Daphne is a ditz.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/14/2006 05:50:00 PM |
1 comments
|
| Tuesday, March 07, 2006 |
|
That's the Best Part |
|
|
You know how sometimes when you doctor up a plain old burger with all your favorite toppings, and then it becomes this slippery (especially if you put lettuce on it), increasingly soggy mess that looks like car road splatter (I LOVE ketchup) after an ugly wreck by the time you're halfway done with it? The BEST BITE is that bite that has a little bit of every topping on it, in just the right proprtions, right before it gets to that messy roadkill stage. It's usually right in the middle. It's like the crescendo of a musical movement, or the climax of a well-laid plot, followed by the denouement of wet buns (yes, double entendre please!). Last week at Queens Holding Court, L said something about "that's the best part", and Gypsy chimed in how she loved that phrase. It reminded me of the time Big Harley gave me the middle of his PBJ, letting me know that I was special because he gave me the best bite. Big Harley was my first attempt at maneuvering an adult relationship. Gaymaker:1, Rosie:0. I went out with some pals last night and ended up spending the evening with 2 old friends, one of whom was celebrating his 50th birthday. He's technically a boss of mine, since he is on the Board of Directors, but we regularly go out after board meetings to have a drink and smokey treats. He was bombed! Our other friend had to pour him into my car and I drove him to his East LA home, which his ex-step daughter had filled with balloons while he was at work. His cat was trapped upstairs, suffering from globophobia, a fear of balloons, and was desperately in need of a visit to the great outdoors. I think he had a pretty good birthday. There was a party for him last Saturday, and a woman he was being supportive of drove the buick on him, and the sofa they were sitting on. It was red wine, and he kept calling it red velvet cake vomit. I loved the visual. Cake is not like a burger, or PBJ. The best part is on the edges, not the middle. Especially a german chocolate cake (which is not german in origin at all), so you can have more of that coconut goo that could really be eaten without the cake at all. Now that's the best part.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/07/2006 09:14:00 AM |
2 comments
|
| Wednesday, March 01, 2006 |
|
Medicine Lodge, KS |
|
|
I just got back from my walk, on which I was accompanied by my guard Corgi, and met halfway back by the super hound, who could not be troubled to walk 2 miles on the dirt roads. I was near the neighbor's pasture full of mules and it hit me. It was the smell of my grandparents pasture near Medicine Lodge, down by the gyp hills. You know, near Kiowa? OK, almost to Oklahoma and west of Wichita quite a ways. We used to go there for a week every summer while Mom and Dad went to square dance camp in Colorado Springs. I hated my grandmother, who was incredibly mean and didn't really need the rest of us granddaughters after my older sister was born. She would scare the crap out of me and make fun of me when I was two-years-old, terrified of her, missing my mommy, and pouting with my bottom lip sticking out and quivering while tears came to my eyes. She'd tell me a chicken was gonna come along and sit on my lip if I didn't quit sticking it out. What the FUCK was wrong with that woman!? Where's the comfort for a freaked out toddler? It's no wonder all her kids were amazingly fucked up and have emotional problems to accompany their intimacy issues. Anyway, later the grandparents moved to Isabel, over closer to Sawyer. We were left to run around like oversized coyotes on the prairie for a week, with no need for baths other than in the crick, or in the pond on a horse's back. They didn't care too much what we did as long as we stayed out of their way, which believe me, WE DID! The pasture down there has a smell that my pasture doesn't have. Maybe it's nasty chemicals, but I think it has more to do with some sort combination of plants that grows there. My sister, brother, and i would spend hours collecting wildflowers, weeds that were interesting looking, and these really cool seed pods called devils claws. We'd build sculptures out of them, but never had glue to actually make them last. At the end of the week, when we'd nearly driven the old folks to insanity (they had no TV!), we'd present our parents with a flower arrangement that we'd made that morning from our collection. I'll drive by the neighbor' s place when I run to town in a little bit so I can hang my head out the window and take in the scent of a place and time far far away. It's out of the way from my usual path, but so are memories of my grandparents.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/01/2006 01:13:00 PM |
1 comments
|
|
More words to live by |
|
|
Here are some other words that I like: (And I am merely stalling so that I can digest the enormous mango (love that word) shake I just gulped down before I go out for a jog. Yeah, I know, Rosie jogging? It's been happening and I can't figure out why. Run, Rosie, Run!) burning daylight kumquat spunky smoke a turd in hell (i.e., you'll rue the day) after eating too much: "I feel like a bloated tick on the hairy dog of life" MILF - I will address this later schlep trundle (have I listed this already?) chowderhead Words I don't like: pisser, in reference to the toilet
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/01/2006 11:29:00 AM |
0 comments
|
|
Sheep go to Heaven, Lions go to Hell? |
|
|
Isn't it March that we are speaking of when we say "in like a lion, out like a lamb"? Well, March is coming in like a lamb, but I will be at the Lyon tonight, so can we say it is coming in AT the Lyon, so maybe it will go out like a lamb? I'd like to think so. I hate winter, so I am relishing this weather, sitting in the PJ's, drinking coffee, smoking ciggies, hoping my mother doesn't drop by un-announced to catch me, (as she so often does), with the windows open and breezes that have a hint of rain smell (it's really just the ozone layer deteriorating) blowing the smoke back in my eyes. Don Harman is at the marble factory in Bonner Springs today, and Katie says it's supposed to be 81 effing degrees today. Ahhhhhhh! Soon I will be able to rejoice in lolling about even more, since I am auctioning off the store on April 7th. No more Saturdays at the shop. It was fun while it lasted, but the poopy landlord and the weirdos in Topeka have taken all the fun out of it. The ex-partner splitting didn't help any, not that he was much use anyway. It's funny how things work out. Some people just sit back and let everything happen around them, and others are action-takers. I am generally an action-taker, but I think I am burnt out on that for a while, since much of the action I have taken has not gotten me anywhere except frustrationville. Doing nothing is not the opposite of taking action, it is just a pathetic way to make choices. I have really enjoyed the crisis that has come up recently in the girlfriend group. NOT the crisis itself, but the way it got our attention and made us all come together to focus on some common cause. Gypsy and I have spent some quality time together and I didn't realize how much I was missing it/her. She is a completely different person from when we were so tight, and I admire her for becoming who she is, not that I didn't love who she was. It was like this ugly breakup, and now we tenuously hang together with a hint of weirdness in the air that is easier to ignore than to address. I DO intend to address it sometime, when we have time to roll it around together and take apart that giant foil ball that it became. The new Saveur came yesterday, and there is a great snippet about Clementine Paddleford in it. She was a food writer for years, after she had been a home economist at KSU. Single mother in those days....for shame! She is responsible for my favorite quote: "Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ougt to be." I had to grow a backbone at one point in my life. Like a muscle, it atrophys if it goes unused. Mine feels unused, although at times I feel like I carry a heavy burden. Sheep can be used as pack animals, but they are also so stupid that they'll walk right off a cliff. Goats make much better carriers and pullers, because they are clever and can be trained. Sheep have wishbones. Goats have backbones. Sheep go to heaven. Goats go to hell. Did I mention that I hate winter? I love the unbearable heat of summer. It's coming.
|
|
| posted by Rosie @ 3/01/2006 08:51:00 AM |
1 comments
|
