Ready For Some Randomness?

I know, I know...I haven't posted in forever. It's a good time for a post full of randomness to catch y'all up on the highlights. Ready?

So...I learned a lesson the other day: don't tie a 15-pound dog to a 60-pound dog. It won't bode well for the 15-pound dog. Clearly I didn't think it through when I tied the ends of their leashes together. They were at church with me, and I thought it would make it less likely for them to sneak off. I certainly didn't consider that Boo might break into a run while Buddy was busy paying attention to an itchy spot on his own behind. The ramifications of my foolishness dawned on me at that point, but I was thwarted in my attempts to chase after the dogs by side-splitting laughter. I couldn't help myself. That laughter caught in my throat when I made the...um...added mistake of calling Boo to me when he was stopped between some seats. For once, he responded immediately with a leap and a lunge. I thought Buddy was a goner.

I'm happy to report that both dogs are fine and snoring away right now:

I always buy my Thanksgiving turkey just a little too late for it to be fully thawed in time. I stuck it in a cold water bath in the kitchen sink Wednesday evening as I prepared some other items, but it was still pretty hard at bedtime. Since it can't be completely submerged in the sink (I have to keep rotating it), I decided to pop it into the tub overnight. I ran that tub water forever and the rump was still showing...did you know that turkeys float? (Frozen ones anyway.) So I scrounged around for something to use as a weight. I wonder what Mike thought when he got up in the night to go to the bathroom and saw a gallon paint can sitting on a turkey sitting in the tub.

I'm happy to report that none of us got trichinosis. Or telekinesis. Or whatever.

Both Mike and I have had falls recently - Mike tried to kick a basketball out of the way so no one would trip over it. Ah, the irony. His foot rolled over it and he hit the ground in his only good suit (it was Sunday). Don't tell him, but I can hardly type this from chuckling so hard.... So I was carrying a giant box of toys across the room last week and stepped on a toy truck. Next-thing-you-know, I was doing a slow-motion split and there wasn't a blessed thing I could do about it. At some point, before I really pulled a muscle, I tipped over. I'm no Mary Lou Retton.

I'm also no longer the parent of a teenager - Flutterbug turned twenty in October (teeny sob). In celebration, we all went to a concert at a local church. I forgot to bring gum, and I like having fresh breath when I'm in close quarters with other people. I dug around in my purse and found one of those plastic bottles of gel toothpaste. Squeezed a tiny dollop onto my finger and licked it and swished it around in my mouth. It did the trick. I pulled it out again during the intermission and did the same thing. Then I offered some to Mike. He said, "Sure," and I squeezed a bit onto his finger. Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed the toothpaste all over them, while I stared at him with my mouth agape. Flutterbug managed to tell him it wasn't hand sanitizer and I found enough of a voice to snort and then laugh 'til I cried. That guy is a one-man comedy show.

My new skinny jeans are defective. They have utterly failed me. I didn't mean to buy them - I didn't even know they were "skinny" until I yanked off the label that said, "Skinny." I'm thinking that once the size goes into double digits, a better label would be, "Moderately Lanky Below the Knees." So they do their job as long as I wear them with a dress. Flutterbug said, "If DAD ever buys skinny jeans, I'll die." That was the same day that she told me, "The thing in front of the thing is the thing that Boo threw up on." She's so quotable.

I could go on all night...our life would make a great reality show - just following our huge Victory Home truck around town, which can't go in reverse, would make a hilarious storyline. But I'm getting sleepy, so consider yourselves caught up. And don't worry a bit about Buddy; he bounced back quite well from that leash fiasco, and recovered perfectly from having his head rolled up in the car window the same evening.

A Little 'O This...A Little 'O That

It's the starting that's the hardest. Or, rather, the REstarting. But here I go...excuse the randomness of the post. In fact, embrace it! Who needs organized thought anyway? Think of this post as a big, colorful pile of confetti!

I found some strange ceramic rings at the thrift store. I don't know what on earth they're supposed to be for, but I stuck them to some mirrors, added buttons to the centers and, voila, modern art right over the toilet! I updated the little bathroom with a new mirror and bronze fixtures. Add to that the book of Christopher Robin's memoirs and I enjoy spending lots of time in there. A rebellious intestinal tract doesn't hurt either.


Oddly enough, when I described those ceramic rings to my mother, she went to a drawer, said, "Are they like these?" and pulled out the exact same thing! You'd think we were related, the way we're drawn to the same types of weird objects.

Flutterbug's been taking Boo to obedience class. The teacher said that dogs get used to the tone of our voices, so that saying "No" becomes ineffective. She suggested coming up with an irritating sound to use instead. Beth's choice sounds kind of like "aak" in a loud nasal tone. It's irritating all right. Irritates Boo, irritates Mike, irritates me. On the upside, we're all a lot more obedient.

My mother gave me a couple of fantastic cuff bracelets for my birthday. Love 'em! One was custom-made to match that pin I bought at the flea market.

Flutterbug and I went for a swim at the YMCA yesterday. I use the word "swim" loosely - it was more like bouncing down the swim lane and back and yakking a non-stop. We mostly talked about our upcoming trip to NH. She had a few opinions on the subject:

1) She heard that the alpine slide at Attitash has double sleds and she was clear that she will NOT ride with me (because I went "careening off into the woods" once; I corrected that misconception - the sled went careening off into the woods...I landed face-down on the slide in a Superman pose. Still have the 20-year old scar on my knee as a souvenir).

2) She hopes we'll be driving up Mt. Washington again, and this time she'll be bringing a movie camera, which she plans to train on me, post on Youtube and make tons of money selling advertising when it goes viral. Now don't even tell me you wouldn't act the same way (alternately screeching with laughter and shrieking with fear) on a road like this (that little teeny bit of land in the lower left corner is the road's edge.

Don't ask me why I'm okay with catapulting down a mountain in a plastic sled on a fiberglass track, and not ok with climbing up a mountain in a sturdy car with a trustworthy driver. I'm a complex woman.

3) She does hope we'll go to Newick's again...they have pretty good hamburgers (to which my dad responded, upon hearing that she ordered a burger at one of the best seafood restaurants in NH: "Are you out of your bloomin' mind???!")

Got a cantaloup in my farm co-op box this weekend. My dad calls them musk melons, and now I think I know why - it is stinking up the kitchen with what can only be described as the putrid smell of cat pee. WHEW.

I took a flying leap on the walk home from the Independence Day fireworks. Stepped into a bit of a hole and wrenched my ankle and went down like a bear hit by a tranquilizer dart. Ironically, I was chattering with little Billy's dad about how often that boy falls down (every few minutes). He's 8 years old now and still has legs like the scarecrow on the Wizard of Oz. He skips everywhere he goes, falls down, hops right back up again (wait 'til he's 46 - it'll take 4 minutes and a lot of stifled wimpering and embarrassed giggling).

There you have it...a veritable sea of confetti-like minutiae. Party on!

Timmmm...

berrrrrrrrr.

I lived up to my nickname yesterday, in a most bizarre way...

Picture it (to quote that old Golden Girl):

I'm facing the closet, with a tall, empty suitcase standing upright in front of me. The cover is unzipped. I lean over the suitcase to reach beyond it and grab a smaller bag on the closet floor. I can't quite reach it, so I slip my toes into the edge of the suitcase and lean farther over.

Forgetting about the suitcase wheels.

The suitcase tilts forward and down it goes, with me on top of it. Owwwwww. That thing has lots of hard ridges.

I couldn't roll off, because a radiator was on one side, and a table on the other. To add insult to injury, my right knee was firmly planted on the pant leg of my left leg. I don't think I moved for at least a minute. It took that long to get the synapses snapping and figure out how to get up.

I will admit that one single-word thought found its way through within about five seconds of the fall:

BLOG.

Maybe this'll jump start the poor, neglected thing...

Family Trip

Today Mike pulled a Melanie.

On mile 10 of a run, he was watching some construction on the road up ahead. The sidewalk rudely popped up in front of him and sent him flying!

He called me to come get him and I flew out the door.

Well, I did hesitate for just a second.

I haven't mentioned this to him, but it crossed my mind to GRAB MY CAMERA.

I resisted the urge (after all, what were the odds that he'd still be sprawled on the sidewalk?) and picked him up, and after he soaked in the tub for a little while, we headed to the ER, just to be sure nothing was broken.

Thankfully, other than a lot of swelling and pain in his shoulder and side, he seems to be in one piece.

How will he feel on Saturday, when he's supposed to run a Valentines Day 14k to benefit Victory Home? I guess we'll wait to see!

What's Typical, Anyway?

It's been a typical week here in Nuttyland.

Pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and it was coated in a thick layer of bright orange popcorn salt. Note to self: popcorn salt in right pocket, cell phone in left.

Flutterbug took the S.A.T. on Saturday. One more step toward LEAVING HER MOTHER.

I sorted, priced and displayed hundreds of books for the thrift store. Found a book I thought my mother-in-law would enjoy, but I'll have to wait until it dries to send it - dropped it in the tub the other night. Wouldn't cha know.


I also FELL DOWN while working at the warehouse. Plastic hanger on the concrete floor, box full of books in my arms, two people right nearby who didn't notice (I have good luck that way).

One of the Victory Home guys compared himself to Jonah tonight. He said, "The good news is that I'm in the whale now!"

I'm thinking of trying to be a little arty - I've collected some stuff to make a mosaic mirror.

Now that I look at the picture, I'm thinking I may not have enough mosaic stuff to cover the surface.

The trick will be getting it done within 5 years. That's about my average for a project, no matter how small.

Flutterbug and I had another rip-roaring laugh in the car the other day. Something about me asking her what my knee looked like (after falling on it) and her saying she thought it looked like chicken, and me saying I thought it looked more like Donny Osmond, and...well...you kind of had to be there.

Worked out at the "Y" the other day - back to shrieking from sore legs when I sit down on the toilet. Working out every other week isn't working out. I mean that in every way. I don't know what happened to six-days-a-week. It may have been the overwhelming channel choices on the treadmill TVs - how could I possibly be expected to choose between Magnum P.I, the Barefoot Contessa and a Monk rerun (with Sharona, no less)???

So there's the week in a NUTshell.

I AM a Girl, You Know...

Well, I’m not going back to that day spa anytime soon, so I did it myself.

Waxed my upper lip, I mean.

Nearly waxed an eyebrow off, too.

And I foolishly did all this right before leaving the house. Fortunately, I have an old tube of heavy duty makeup (and I do mean heavy duty – it could hide an elephant), so I was able to cover my new red moustache before heading off to church.

I made a lot of people gasp tonight, as I tripped over a seam in the sidewalk and pitched forward, but I didn’t fall down. This has got to be a record stretch of time between falls. I did stub my toe this week (badly enough to still be hurting after two days) and I burnt my tongue pretty badly today, on a low-fat French bread pizza that so wasn’t worth the pain, and of course, there’s the raw upper lip, but where are the falls lately???

I’m going to lose my reputation as a faller…although, now that I think of it, tripping without falling is a good thing.

After all, I trip along the narrow road all the time - but Jesus is keeping me from actually falling! It's a good thing, too, because I know ME well enough to know that if I could fall, I would fall. It's just in my nature. You know, the nature that Jesus died to save me from.

And one day, He's going to joyfully set me before God, WITHOUT FAULT, and it's only because He held on to me every time I tripped.

To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore!
--Jude 1:24-25

Lookie where we went tonight...

A bunch of us went to the Commodore Theatre this evening to see our favorite big-screen archeologist! After my requisite fall (need to fill my May quota) which happened outside the car when I stepped on a very large pebble and pitched forward onto all fours, strewing quarters all over the sidewalk (reenactment below), all nine of us met at the entrance and headed inside.


The Commodore is a 1940's art deco style dinner theatre. Food's pretty good, atmosphere is great - big murals on the walls, chandelier sconces, tables with dimly lit lamps. Indy's aged a good bit, but haven't we all!

Tomorrow bestest friend from kindergarten comes for a visit - I'm sure there will be a few bloggable moments. We sure have had a lot of nutty adventures over the years, and a couple may have to be resurrected for the sake of blog entertainment (for my sake, I'm glad there aren't photos of some of those embarrassing adventures!)

Sea Level - a good place for me

I’m a strange mix of daredevil and scaredy-cat. In my last post I failed to mention my most spectacular fall, which was the result of the daredevil in me. Where I grew up there were these wonderful things on the sides of some of the ski mountains called alpine slides. Up you went on the ski lift, and down you flew with a sled on a fiberglass slide. Right up my alley! I loved going down the entire mountain without touching the brake once. There were two slides side by side and Hubby (when he was still Boyfriend) and I enjoyed racing down together. Well, it wasn’t ever much of a race – I was way faster. Halfway down the mountain, there was a sudden drop, with a warning sign strung overhead saying, “Apply Brakes!” or something to that effect. Without touching the brake, I would careen over the drop, fly through the air, and land on the slide below. Thrilling! One time, though, Hubby was plodding along and as he slowed for the drop, he was stunned to see his girl lying face down on the track below, and the sled 20 feet away in the shrubs. Let me tell you that the thrill was well worth it, and I escaped with only a goose-shaped scar on my knee, and some minor damage to my dignity.

On the other hand, I thought I would die of fright driving – yes, I said driving – up Mount Washington last year. Now to my credit, here’s the sign posted at the base:

This is one sign I should have heeded. But who knew! After all, we’d be in a car. It began so innocently. Mossy rocks, soft evergreens, gentle slopes.

Soon, though, the road steepened. It narrowed. And before long, I was clinging to anything I could grab hold of – the door, the ceiling, the seatbelt, and alternately shrieking and laughing. Okay, more shrieking than laughing. But just look at the picture below. See the left bottom corner? That is the edge of the road.


The worst moments were when another car, or, even worse a big van, came down the mountain toward us. The only way to cope was to squeeze my eyes shut ‘til we had passed; thank heavens Mike didn’t have the same inclination! The road often disappeared ahead of us, giving the illusion that we would drive right off the edge of the earth.


The summit was spectacular.

Well, not at first.


But eventually.

I decided on the spot to make my permanent residence there. It would neatly solve the problem of getting back down the mountain.

Unless I blew off, that is.

Eventually I had to face the music. But this time I got smart. Climbed into the backseat (on the pretext of allowing Little Bubba a better view – gotta preserve some dignity). Buried my face in a book. Hummed “Oh Where Is My Hairbrush.” And here I am today, alive to tell about it!

Now, don’t get me wrong – I would recommend this adventure to anyone (well, anyone who has nerves of steel). If life weren’t full of zany adventure, blogs would be so boring.

If a tree falls . . .

I lived up to my nickname today.

We were up well before dawn to go to a local park for a community sunrise service. Having inherited my dad’s sense of adventure, I’m always up for the excitement of rising in the wee hours of the morning, bundling into hats, scarves and warm coats, and shivering in the darkness, singing and praying as the sky lightens and the sun finally appears over the trees. What a perfect way to begin Easter morning!

Back to the nickname…shortly before the service began, Hubby was standing with the other pastors. He looked out at the crowd of about thirty people milling around and spotted, in the near-darkness, someone pitch forward and crash to the ground. He thought to himself, “That has got to be Melanie.” My nickname: “Timber.” And not the noun, the interjection, as in “Timmmmber!”

This afternoon I had to peel my pantyhose off my blood-encrusted knee - not so fun - and I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but I’m used to it.

Just a few months ago, I fell and sprained my ankle (that was an embarrassing one – I did a lot of hollering, mostly about my opinion on going to the ER after a long day, so hubby didn’t push it (smart man); just a few days later I fell right off the stage into a heap, hurting both elbows.

I have fallen in a ditch (due to a bad choice of shoes), crashed into an accordion door (same shoes! and the door suffered major injuries), and I fell onto my hands and knees at my brother’s wedding reception, while carrying the top layer of their beautiful wedding cake (it survived, just got shorter and denser!). I’ve gone through a lot of pantyhose in my short (haha) life.

But my nickname came before all these falls.

One Sunday after church I stood in the center aisle, chatting with a handful of people. I crossed my legs and wedged my front foot into the side of the pew. I guess it was inevitable that I should eventually lose my balance. When it happened, my feet were trapped and I could do nothing but pitch forward helplessly. Talk about a showstopper – when I fell like a tree in the midst of the group, everyone was stunned into silence; when I let out an embarrassed titter, they all burst out laughing, and laughed so hard I began to feel a little indignant! And then one wit in the crowd dubbed me “Timber.”

Recently a sweet little woman in our church was exchanging riddles with a Victory Home resident. I offered one of my favorites, gleaned from a Dixie cup many years ago.

“Miss Taffie,” I said, “What goes ‘Ha, ha, ha, thump?’”

“Melanie!” she crowed.

By the way, the Dixie cup answer was “Somebody laughing his head off.” I thought it was a cute joke, but now I’ve become the punch line. What cruel irony. Excuse me while I go change my band-aid.