I got out and finished stacking my wood after work today, because it's supposed to rain tomorrow. Once I'd gotten all done, that's when I saw it. Yep, they shorted me. For it to be a full face cord, the stack would have to be the same size as that sheet of OSB behind it. As you can see, it's not even close. And those few pieces on the end were wood I already had, so what they brought me was really short.
So, yeah, I definitely won't be buying from them again. Even though it was a really good price for a face cord -- if it had actually been a face cord, that is. Oh, and look at this:
They left this one huge chunk of wood that I don't think would fit inside my heater. Even if it fit through the opening, it would be way too heavy for me to put it in there, since the door is on one end.
I tried to split it, but this is as far as I got. I swung that sledge hammer until my arms were noodles, but had to put it away for the day. I'll try again tomorrow, if it's not raining when I get home.
All in all, thought, it's good that I have a supply of wood, because it's supposed to get cold next week. They're even predicting snow for Thursday! With my luck, though, all we'll get is rain. Cold, wet, bone chilling rain.
In other news, I'm having to take a bit of a break from piano practice. You see, I decided like a dummy to wash my coffee maker. You know, the one that uses the pods. Yeah, I forgot about the little stabby thing in the bottom, and completely stabby thinged my finger.
Yes, it's a bit painful. I'm still trying to play through my songs once or twice each, but I'm not going to be doing a full practice until this heals. Oh, and for those of you interested, one of the shanty groups I follow is doing a community thing. You can get the details here:
It would be so cool to see some of my friends in this video. Me, I'm too much of a Luddite to even know where to begin. They even want ASL people to do it, so if you know someone who knows sign language, by all means share it with them.
It would seem the mystery of the vegetables has been solved. I'm told some of the churches here in town -- including mine -- have been giving out those boxes out to people in the community. I reckon that's where my box came from. Apparently, God is trying to tell me to eat better.
God may be on to something there...
Heh, a few weeks ago, I decided I was going to do better. I was going to eat healthier. I went to the store and bought me a little bag of salad greens, some fruit, some infused water and V-8...then came home from work and ate ice cream straight out of the carton.
Sigh....
That all being said, as soon as I got home from work, I ripped open the package of tomatoes and had me a sandwich. Then I had another one. Contented sigh...
I've got to figure out what to do with all the rest of it. I'm thinking I might use some of the potatoes and onions and make soup. I don't have a recipe. I'm just going to make it up as I go. Hmmm, maybe I should get some ham to add into it. That would be delicious. I feel kind of bad because I do not like iceberg lettuce at all. Would it seem ungrateful if I shared it with the wild rabbits that live behind my house?
I finally got a picture, albeit not a very good one, of my fawn.
This is still the only fawn I've seen this year. I'm pretty sure my older doe didn't survive the winter. She was pretty old to begin with, and was so very thin last year that I don't see how she could have lived through not only the winter, but also another pregnancy.
And finally, another where has this song been all my life moment.
It would seem Stalker has been defrocked. He has, at least according to plant gossip, had his pay cut and he's been put permanently on an assembly line.
How the mighty have fallen! 2 Samuel 1:27
He used to be so arrogant, so cocky. Now he's just another peon, like the rest of us. I'm trying hard not to gloat. Really, I am. At first, we didn't believe it. We didn't think his pal Brazing Boss would do that to him, but according to the guy he was working with today, it's true.
Some people are saying it's because he stayed in quarantine for so long, but I don't think that's it. I don't think it would be legal for them to demote him just because he used his FMLA. What I think, and this is pure speculation on my part is, most of my coworkers have no idea how close our company came to going out of business during the pandemic lockdowns. And I'm not talking the local plant. I'm talking Lennox International. It got really bad there for a while, and they were looking to cut expenses everywhere they could. We lost all our bonuses, and all the salaried employees took a 12% pay cut. Even the CEO of the company had his salary cut by 50%. That's how serious it was.
So, what I'm thinking -- and again, this is pure speculation on my part -- is when all this went down, The Big Man Up Front had to take a good hard look at our plant's budget. I imagine one of the things he found he needed to do was to eliminate all the superfluous "buddy system" jobs. Stalker's job was definitely one of those. I mean, how many new brazers to they train in a year? Ten maybe. Twelve in a busy year. Do they really need three brazing trainers for that? Short answer, no. They don't. And word around the plant is that the way Stalker got the job in the first place was by cozying up to a person of significant influence who used to work up in the front office.
Now, I don't know for sure if this is true, but what I hear is that Stalker used to go hang around Person Of Significant Influence's hunting club, and whenever POSI would kill a deer, Stalker would sidle up to him and say, "Hey, POSI. Want me to skin that deer for you?" Eventually, Stalker began asking him to get him on out at the plant, so POSI created a position out of thin air just for Stalker. That part is just gossip, but I do know for a fact that POSI got Stalker his job in direct violation of company policy, because he didn't have a high school diploma or GED, which is required for full time employees. He worked there for nearly two years before HR made him go back and get one. Stalker told me that himself.
So, now he's been moved to the assembly lines for good, from what I hear. Today, he filled in on the test tank, where they check the units for leaks. I told my coworker if they put him on the test tank permanently, boy will he write down a lot of leaks on us. He is just that petty and spiteful. I said I don't even care, just so long as I don't have to deal with him anymore.
Let's move on to something more pleasant, shall we? Heh, as if there were anything more pleasant than getting rid of my stalker...who told me once if they ever tried to put him on the line, he'd quit. Well, we shall see.
It's been a while since I posted a sea chanty, hasn't it. It's been so long, I bet you forgot all about them. Or rather, you thought I forgot about them. Nope.
A few days ago, YouTube's autoplay feature brought me this little gem. It's by a guy who does traditional and folk music with a sort of upbeat, techno-pop sound. I know, I know....but it works. It really does. At least with this song. Give it a listen.
I'll bet you thought I'd given up my imaginary boyfriend, too, didn't you? Nope, I just figured you'd gotten bored hearing about my imaginary adventures with him. I only bring him up now to illustrate how much of a dork I am.
And just how much of a dork am I? Well, I'll tell you. I'm so dorky that I imagined I took him fishing out on the bayou back home. That's not the dorky part. The dorky part is, in real life, I actually got onto the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department website to research non-resident fishing licenses. You know, to make sure I was imagining that I imaginarily got him the right imaginary ...fishing license. Because I didn't want to get him into imaginary trouble with the imaginary game wardens.
Don't even ask. I've long since given up trying to find an explanation for such things.
And finally, there is an upside to going to work so late in the day. You get to see sunrises like this one.
I'm such a klutz. I have been all my life. It gets frustrating sometimes, and I can be pretty hard on myself about it. Even in my dreams...
Last night, for example. My white headed shanty men and I were making some of our Suzie's favorite foods. We were going to sneak them into the rehab place for her, because the food they served there wasn't very good. I'd put the food into a couple of those plastic trays -- kind of like the rotisserie chickens come in, but not exactly --and was carrying it to the car when one of the shanty men (Billy, if you know who any of them are) said something to me. I'm not sure what he said, but I carried all the food back into the house,
where I promptly dropped both containers onto the floor, spilling the food all over the place.
"Why am I always dropping everything???? Drop! Drop! Drop! All the time!" I screamed in my dream, and went into a full on melt down. It wasn't pretty. If I acted like that in real life, I'd be ashamed of myself.
Sometime later, my alarm went off and I began getting ready for work. I washed my face, and dropped the towel onto the floor. I brushed my teeth, and knocked my toothbrush container onto the floor. I feed the dogs their breakfast, and spill about half the dog food onto the floor. I crack out some ice for my water cup, and three ice cubes hit the floor...and all this before I even get to work.
I make it through the work day, and when I get home, I go outside, dispatch another chipmunk to his eternal reward, and decide to spray the weed killer I'd bought on the creeping charlie in my front yard --and spray myself from head to toe...
Sigh...
Speaking of my white headed shanty men, I realize it's been a while since I shared a video. I didn't want to bombard you. However, I did recently find one I just had to share. See, since the quarantine, they've had to cancel all their gigs, so they've been putting up things they call Mares Tales & Mackerel Scales. They're posting them about once a week. Some are videos from past concerts, but others are videos each one has recorded and posted. You can watch them on their YouTube Channel.
This is the most recent one, and one line in it has made me giggle ever since. If you know me at all, you'll be able to pick it out right away. Let me know if you do.
*In the interest of full disclosure, I had to listen to it a couple of times to get my ear tuned to his accent. I can understand the Swamp People no problem, but Cornish...not so much. Heh, when I watched their movie, I had to put the subtitles on the first few times.
Finally, I seem to have hurt my wrist somehow. I'm not sure what I did, but it is very sore. Those of you to whom I owe letters, it's going to be a minute, but I'll get to them eventually.
Did you know my white headed shanty men have a movie out about them?
OK, it's not really about them, per se. But it is. It's a fiction movie based on how they were discovered. Loosely...
Anyway, it was released in the U.K. back in May. I waited patiently for it to be released on this side of the Pond, but it wasn't. It came out on video in the U.K. in July, and I thought surely they'd release it in Region 1 format, too, but it wasn't. Still, I waited patiently as I read reviews on their Facebook page from people in Australia, Germany, France...even China, talking about how good the film was. And how much they enjoyed it. I regularly checked Amazon to see if it had been released in Region 1 coding, but still nothing...
Then, a couple of weeks ago, they posted on their Facebook page that the sequel would begin filming soon. Wait, what? I haven't even gotten to see the first one, yet, and they're filming a second sequel? Naturally, I did what any red blooded American and Native Born Texan would do...I got on Amazon and ordered a region free DVD player and the DVD.
The player arrived in just a few days, but I had to wait for the disc to be shipped from England, so it took a bit longer. Well, it finally arrived, and I was able to watch it this afternoon. It was very good! A bit kitschy and cheesy, but good nonetheless. I always feel a little lost on the first Saturday without football, and this filled in the empty spot right nicely.
Speaking of football, I thought I'd set my DVR to record the Natty, but somehow I did it wrong and recorded ESPN's super redacted version. Sigh....At least I got to see a little of it. Maybe they'll replay it again during the off season.
Look at this:
It's coming up in the bed where I planted my bluebonnet seeds. I'm not sure it's a bluebonnet or a weed, but I'm for sure not messing with it -- just in case. There are about four of them coming up, so I'm hoping I get some bluebonnets this year.
Finally, tonight's sunset was gorgeous. Pictures don't do it justice.
Oh, wait, I forgot something. In the movie, one of the guys mentions the cough drop called Fisherman's Friend. I've used them for years. A few weeks ago, one of my coworkers was coughing and asked for one of my Hall's. I told her to just keep the bag with her in case she needed more. I wouldn't need them. I'd broken out the big guns.
That night, she went and bought some. The next morning, she came in and told me she'd put two into her mouth at once. "Oh, Becky! I won't ever do that again!" But, she hasn't coughed since.
It is with a heavy heart I have to inform you I have decided to set aside the violin for the time being.
It wasn't easy, but I think it was necessary. I enjoyed playing it, but I just don't have time to give three instruments their due. Since I have more invested in the piano and guitar, it was the violin which had to go. I hope I can pick it up some time later, when I'm not so pressed for time. In other words, when I'm not working so much...
Oh, look at what my next song in my guitar book is.
Because 'Murica. That's why.
Speaking of work, I got there bright and early this morning -- some of us go in at 5:00 -- and Stalker was there. He said he needed to come in early to watch us and make sure we were working. I don't know about the rest of my fellow brazers, but that made me extremely angry. I've been there 25 years (next month), and have been brazing for 21 of those 25 years. I know how to do my job! I don't need a [unwholesome word for which I had to repent] babysitter. If I did, I sure wouldn't have lasted a quarter of a century out there.
I think he might have realized he'd crossed a line, because he stayed in the back most of the day. Remember how I said they were rearranging the whole plant? All the component areas are now in what used to be the plant, and the assembly lines are back in what used to be the warehouse.
It was a while before I ever needed to even go back there, but one day, a part stager gave me a partial to braze up. She told me, "When you're done, put it directly into Line 3 Group Leader's hands."
I told my coworkers if I wasn't back in half an hour to send out a search party. It's a long, long way. I may need to start carrying my bug out bag with me...
Here's some excitement for you. I woke up bright and early this morning, and as is my custom, I browsed Facebook while eating my breakfast of oatmeal. There are only two sea chanty groups I follow on there -- one being my white headed chanty men -- and the other is Kimber's Men. I've posted some of their songs before, including this where has this song been all my life number.
Anyway, I was eating my oatmeal when I saw that they had posted a birthday wish to one of the members. I was trying to think of something witty and clever and sophisticated to say to him, but alas, nothing is witty, clever, or sophisticated at 4:00 in the morning, so I just said happy birthday. But look!
LOOKIT! LOOKIT! LOOKIT!!!!!
HE RESPONDED!!!!!
Whoa! Squeeeee!!!! Here's why that's such a big deal -- and not just because a celeb replied to my comment.
Back after That Awesome Hunk Of Pure Awesomeness Who Used To Be My Imaginary Boyfriend Before He Got Married To Someone Who Is Not Me Bill Whittle got married to someone who is ...um...not me, I needed to find a new imaginary boyfriend. Gareth Scott was thisclose to becoming the aforementioned imaginary boyfriend, until he just got edged out by my little Punkin Head Pooh Bear Gator Bait.
Finally, Rylea says, "Mama, will you please put these cushions back onto my love seat!"
To which I reply, "Will you stop kicking them off, then?"
Now, if you will excuse me, Jesse is telling me it's time for bed. And I haven't even practiced my piano yet.
Actually, I think I ran out of clever titles several titles ago, so you get this. Such is life...
And now, on to your regularly scheduled post.
I've had this problem with chipmunks ever since I moved into this house. Last week, I got fed up, and ordered a live trap from Amazon. It was supposed to get here Monday, but it didn't. I thought maybe it'd get here Tuesday, but it didn't. By Thursday, I'd figured it was not going to arrive at all, so I requested a refund, which I've received. I also left the seller a very poor review, to which they have not responded.
Since I still have a chipmunk tearing up my yard, when I did my in town running yesterday, I ran into Tractor Supply to see if they had a live trap. You know, I really need to stay out of that store. It's like a wonderland. So much fun stuff.
I didn't find a trap, but I did pick up this totally cute chicken mug.
They had four different breeds, and I debated for a long time, and finally settled on this one. The first person I thought of when I saw them was my friend Marcy, who has chickens. Do go check out her blog, and she's also got a vlog on YouTube. Check that out, too. She's really cool.
All that aside, I still have a chipmunk problem. I thought about running up to Lowe's today, but ended up just staying home and being lazy. Probably a good thing, because the long awaited cold front finally arrived. It passed quickly, but got pretty hairy there for a while. It's supposed to get down into the low 40s tonight. I brought some firewood up, just in case.
I'm going to try to hold off burning it, because I've almost used up all the wood from that huge tree I had cut down. I think I have enough to last through this winter, if I'm frugal with it. I'll just have to get out there and finish splitting it. By next year, I'll have to start buying some. There's usually someone selling it on the local yard sale pages.
In the meantime, I made a bunch more Zoom Loom squares.
They weave up so quickly, it won't be long until I have enough to make a blanket.
Yesterday, I found this meme and sent it to Cody.
Which is about how I'm playing. He told me I wasn't messing up, I had become a jazz player. They aren't wrong notes, they're atonal melodies -- or so he said. Same as it is in knitting. It's not a mistake. It's a design element. He asked how practice was going, and I said not well. My hands are just too small to make the chords, and I told him how frustrated I was getting. He said he's going to teach me something called triads. He said they're much easier to reach than full chords.
In the meantime, I got his fiddle out and tuned it. I'm going to have to find a better book, though, or look for lessons online. The book he has seems like it's meant to be used in a classroom type setting, with an actual instructor. I tried looking at it, but it gets pretty advanced very quickly. I mean, lesson two had sharps and all. I don't even know how to make those notes yet, and there aren't any "this is how you play an F#" type of instructions. The lessons just assume someone has taught you how to make the notes. As a result, I'm only playing the open string notes. There are only 4: E, A, D, and G.
I ordered a thing from Amazon that you can put right onto the neck of the violin. It shows you where to put your fingers to make the other notes, since a violin doesn't have frets like a guitar does. Oh, and there isn't anyone in town who teaches violin. When would I go anyway? It's the same problem I have with taking guitar or piano lessons.
Speaking of, there is a rumor going around that they're going to put us back to 8 hour shifts starting next year. EVERYONE in the plant is praying that rumor is true. They usually aren't, but we're all hoping this one is.
In other news, Rylea hasn't been feeling well.
I found some sort of strange lump on her neck. I thought she'd been stung or something, but it doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. If it's not better in a few days, another trip to the vet may be in order. I'm hoping it's just a seroma or a cyst, and not something more serious. That my time with her is getting short is never far from my mind.
And finally, you have no idea how much this made my day.
Yeah, yeah, I know it's jut one of FB's algorithms, but hey, a girl can dream, can't she?
A month and a half into hurricane season, and we've finally gotten one. A hurricane, that is. Folks, meet Hurricane Barry.
By the time he got here, he'd weakened back into a tropical storm, so we didn't get much weather from him. It got pretty windy yesterday -- and it was coming from the East. You know the old saying, "An East wind blows ill." That's why. It got so strong, I had to bring in my flags. The rain got here sometime during the night, and it's been raining all day long.
So, what have I done while hurricane watching? I finished a charity hat,
and cast on another one.
I'm thinking about making this one a slouchy hat. I'm not using a pattern. I'm just going to make it up as I go along. That ought to be fun, huh? The yarn is some I picked up off the clearance aisle. It's Red Heart, and the colorway is Orchid. For Red Heart, it is really, really soft. The skein is big enough I ought to get at least two hats from it, maybe three if I stretch it.
I also took a few moments during the storm to write to my English pen pal. I thought it was a bit funny that she had mentioned she was jealous of the weather we get over here, because English weather is boring. Her words, not mine. And here I was writing her a letter with a hurricane raging outside.
Well, not a hurricane any more, and not so much raging, but still. It's weather!
While I was writing, I'd put on a YouTube playlist, just to have some music in the house.
By the way, did y'all know I have a YouTube Channel? And did you further know, I've got actual subscribers? I've got 21. Subscribers. I just recently noticed that, and I was blown away. Subscribers. I have subscribers! I can't figure out who to tell who they are, though. I suspect most of them subscribed back when Cody was in high school, and I was posting a bunch of band videos.
My YouTube Channel can be found here: CalKingOnyx, you know, if you want to subscribe or anything. Not that I post a lot of videos or anything, but it's there.
Back to my story.
The auto-play feature has really got me figured out, because once my early 90s country music playlist finished, it went right straight to playing songs by my white headed shanty men. I've got so many of their videos in my playlist that the ones at the bottom seldom get heard. Every once in a while, autoplay grabs one of those songs and plays it for me. This is one such song.
I was sitting there, writing, not really paying attention when one line of the song jumped right out at me. It goes, "We jolly sailor boys go skipping up aloft, while the land lubbers lie down below."
That one line reminded me of the time I was in the Navy, and almost fell off an antenna. I won't repeat the whole story here, because I've posted about it twice before. However, if you want to read it, you can find the post here: How I Almost Fell Off An Antenna When I Was In The Navy.
That reminded me of another time, when two of my shipmates put me into a climbing harness and hung me from a different antenna. Well, the hoist. One of them had brought a horror movie to watch on the MidWatch. I don't do horror, so I'd gone into another room and was working in there. I started fooling around with the climbing harness when Aubrey and Joe came in. They asked me what I was doing, so I lied. I said, "I'm trying to figure out how to put this on, in case I ever have to climb the microwave antenna."
Now, we had a couple of satellite antennas that we didn't wear climbing gear when we climbed it, but we did for the microwave antenna. Don't ask me any details, because I don't know. Whatever it is you're asking, I don't know. The only thing is, the microwave antenna looked a lot like your typical radio antenna: as in, very tall, and very slim. Truth is, I kind of wanted to climb it just to be climbing it, but I'm sure I'd have gotten into trouble for that.
Anyway...
Aubrey helped me put the climbing gear on correctly, then he tossed me over his shoulder and took off running to one of the satellite antennas. Those antennas had hoists on them, for when we needed to haul gear and stuff up to the upper levels, to work on them and all. Aubrey hooked the harness onto the hoist, while Joe ran up to the controls and hoisted me up about 6 or 7 feet into the air. And left me there. Swinging in the wind.
Now, me and my INTJ self wasn't really afraid or anything. I knew they'd have to get me down before the LTJG got there, and that was only about an hour away.
I was hanging there, wondering how long they were going to leave me, when the worst thing that could happen happened. I suddenly realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I couldn't get down. I couldn't even cross my legs because of the way the climbing harness was fitted. Fortunately, my shipmates only left me there for a few moments -- just long enough to go get the rest of the watch to come out and laugh at me.
Then they came and got me down, but the memories last a lifetime...Tell me, friends, does that story need to go into the book?
There were rumors going around the plant that they were going to let us go at lunch. Alas, that's all it turned out to be, a rumor. They made us work every last minute of that final, interminable shift before our holiday. But the final interminable shift finally terminated, and I'm free until Monday.
The last piece of my musical puzzle has arrived. I finally have a real piano bench, and just in time for my long weekend, too.
It's a bit smaller than I'd thought, but it'll do for now. It's better than that folding chair, for sure. The bench is just a wee bit higher than the chair was, so I'll have to get used to the new positioning. And as usual, because I'm short, my feet don't quite sit flat on the ground. Yay.
Short people problems, eh?
Still, I'm finally starting to feel like a real musician.
Just not when playing the guitar. Which is still the bane of my existence.
Let's change the subject, shall we?
I've mentioned before, my job is kind of a no-brainer. That, coupled with a 12 hour shift, gives me lots of time for my mind to wander. Sometimes it wanders to places I don't necessarily want it to go...like when we had to dance in P.E. class in school. Yeah.
Did y'all do that too, or was it just us?
Well, one of the dances I just could not get the hang of was the polka. The poor girl I was paired with and I neither one ever got that dance down. Other pairs were whirling around the gym, and we were just struggling -- stomping on each other's feet, losing our place, and not having any rhythm. That, of course, it put me in mind of this song.
I don't know about New York girls, but this Texas girl sure couldn't dance the polka.
Y'all probably have figured out by now, I'm a big fan of these white headed shanty men, and their token toy boy. I just love listening to everything they sing.
Now, when most people are a fan of someone, whether it's a singer/singing group, an actor, an athlete, or Dan Crenshaw, there's certain things fans tend to do. They follow someone on Twitter or Instagram. Like their Facebook page, and comment on their posts. They book mark the person's web page, and maybe send a message or a fan e-mail. Maybe even write an old fashioned fan letter by snail mail. You attend their concerts or games, watch their movies. Go to cons, or charity events. Take selfies, and ask for autographs...whatever. That's what normal people do.
Me, on the other hand, I'm a dork. I don't do any of those things. So, what do I do?
I add their village to my weather app.
Sigh...
Just shoot me now. Somebody. Just. Shoot. Me. Now.
And look at this, when I'm seriously fan girling, I can put it into Celcius.
So I can see the weather the way they would.
What can I say? I'm a dork, and dorks gotta dork.
Oh, and by the way, my older brother in El Paso may have the highest actual temperature, but they only have 11% humidity.
Me with my 54% humidity, I have the highest "Feels Like" temp of all the ones I ...um...follow.
On the Weather Channel App. Not Facebook. Not Twitter or Instagram. The WEATHER CHANNEL APP.
*Sniff* My father would be so proud. *Sniff*
And for your 'Murica moment of the day, I bring back this old classic.
So there I was, just a practicing away, when this happened.
Dang.
I sat there, just staring at it. It looked so far away. Down there. On the floor. I wondered for a moment if I could somehow, somewhere find the energy to pick it up. I strummed with my fingers for a bit, then stood up to get my pick. At that moment, I thought, "Well, I'm up. Might as well put my guitar away."
And that's how my guitar practice ended today.
Oh, there I go, showing off my Irish DNA again. I hope you have your sunglasses on. Or maybe a welding mask.
Anyway, I was practicing what Mr. Stine calls scratching. It's where you mute your strings and just practice strumming to a song or something. It's how you learn rhythm. So, I'd gone to one of my playlists on YouTube looking for a song with a good, strong rhythm to practice to. I found a couple, and went through them.
Somehow, I ended up watching a bunch of old '80s hair band videos. There's a reason they call them hair bands. It's another one of those What Were We Thinking? moments. I must be getting old, because while I was sitting there watching Jon Bon Jovi, Motely Crue, and Styx prancing around the stage, all I could think of was,
I'd rather listen to my old white headed shanty men.
Before I begin today's post, I just have one more thing to say about Saturday's debacle of a Kentucky Derby. One of my friends who works in the racing business posted an article from some people who would know a whole lot more about it than I would.
Anyway, both of the knowledgeable men consulted agreed that Maximum Security should not have been disqualified. If you want to read it, you can click this link: Should Maximum Security Have Been Disqualified?
And now, on to your regularly scheduled post for today.
I got really excited there for a moment. Seems my city has finally entered the 21st century. Yes, you can now pay your bills online -- water, trash pickup, and the like. I got all set to do just that. I entered my information and all, then I saw it. A "processing fee". Yeah, you can pay your bills on the website, but they're going to charge you extra to do it. I know, I know, it's only $1.50, but it's the principle of the thing. I'll just keep on driving by city hall to pay mine, thankyouverymuch.
So, there I was at work, just a working away, when Stalker walks up behind me and says, "You recognize that guy over there?" Truth is, I didn't at first. After getting a good look, though, yeah! It was a former Boss Man who'd come back for a visit. Why, I don't know. He's the only one who ever came back after leaving. I waved at him, and he said, "Hey girl! You still mean as ever?" And I said, "You do remember me!"
He walked on, and a few minutes later current Boss Man drives by on his Blart-mobile. He says, "Y'all don't get excited. He's not coming back!" That's what we call his little scooter thing, the Blart-mobile. And nobody really wants Old Boss Man back anyway.
OK, moving right along...
My cut finger still hurts, but I did try to play my guitar for a minute. And only for a minute before saying, "That hurts too much." And put the guitar aside for the day. Cody told me to let my cut heal completely before trying to practice any more, but I didn't listen. I decided I needed new strings. I had to order them from Amazon, and they should be here by the end of the week. I also ordered a pack of picks, mostly because I just like saying pack of picks. I'm getting a pack of picks, so I can pick a pick out of the pack of picks to pick my guitar with.
Clearly, I don't get enough sleep.
I found a some videos on YouTube with tips for older beginners. It's so much easier to learn as a child, because you don't have the responsibilities adults do. One of the biggest tips -- well, the most useful for me, at least -- is to tell yourself to practice for 5 minutes a day. He said it's better to play 5 minutes every day, than 30 minutes to an hour once a week. He also said you can help toughen up your fingertips by digging your thumbnail into them while you're watching TV, or whatever. I've been doing that -- skipping the cut one, of course. He gave several tips, but the last one I'm going to share is this: start with extra light strings. I don't think that's what I have on my guitar. Way back when I bought it 20 years ago, I didn't know any different. I just used what came with the guitar. The ones I ordered are extra light. We'll see if that makes a difference.
Still haven't gotten the spiders out of it, though...
I was telling my coworker today that I'd taken the guitar back up. I was hoping it would sort of dampen my desire to buy that piano, but so far, it's not working. She said, "Yeah, I know you want that piano, because your face lights up every time you talk about it." Truth is, if I had a spare $500 laying around, I'd have bought it already. Seriously. I've even considered selling some of my yarn to raise money for it. Not that my yarn would fetch much, but every little bit helps.
In knitting news, after I finished my washcloth last night, I cast on another one. Just kidding. I cast on a hat.
This colorway is called Country Rose. I'm trying to get a few more feminine hats done. I read somewhere that nearly 30% of homeless people are women, and just because they're homeless doesn't mean they don't want to feel pretty. I might even try to knit a pattern in this one. I mean a real pattern, not one I'm making up as I go along.
Last, but certainly not least, I found a new sea chanty. It's not the best recording, but it's a really fun song.
I'd found it once before, but lost it again. Now it's safely ensconced in my Fisherman's Friends playlist.
And I'm fixing to go safely ensconce myself in the bed.
Boy, that vacation sure went by fast. When I got up this morning, I was so glad I took those extra two days -- and wished I had two more. But alas, someone has to feed all these dogs, and birds, and snakes, and whatever else it is I'm feeding. So off to work I went.
There I was, at work, just a working away bright and early this morning, when my coworker calls, "STALKER ALERT!" Sigh, I did not miss that part of my job. And sure enough, here he comes around the corner, and plants himself right behind me for the better part of the morning. I guess he was trying to make up for three lost days of trying to intimidate me --or else make me fall in love with him, neither one of which is going to happen.
I told my coworker, "If he's trying to win my heart, he's going about it the wrong way!" But in a way, you have to feel sorry for Stalker. He wants so badly to be relevant, but he's not. Nobody likes him. Nobody respects him. I'm not the only one who wishes he'd just go away. He's a wasted salary is what he is. Speaking of, I heard the made Brazing Boss the supervisor over the hairpin production. Not sure if it's true or not. It's just what I heard.
OK, enough about my horrible job and nonexistent love life...Let's talk about knitting.
As I mentioned yesterday, I cast on a new hat, and have made a good bit of progress on it.
I don't have a pattern for this. I'm just kind of making it up as I go along. Um, I mean, uh, it's pattern of my own design. Which is a fancy way of saying I'm making it up as I go along. Whatever. I like it. It's mindless enough I can watch sea chanties while I knit, but interesting enough I don't get bored with it.
And finally, just so this post isn't a total waste, here's a little something especially for Kristine. I think you might enjoy this one.
Nothing implied here. I just like the song, and the banter before hand makes me giggle.
Well, I finally gave up on this hat and sent it off to the frog pond.
I just couldn't seem to get the decreases to work out right. I don't know if you can see it here, but in the decrease rounds, it made these rib-like things every few inches.
Hang on, let me circle it for you. See, here it is.
It may not have been that obvious, but it stood out light a lightning bolt to me. I tried and tried different ways of decreasing, but it still ended up doing that. I finally took the better part of valor and ripped the whole hat. I've already cast on a new hat, but it's only got two rounds so far, so there's not much use in taking a picture of it for you.
What I can do, however, is show you the other hat I finished.
Sans pompom. I still haven't gotten around to making one, or really even deciding if I want to make one. They look cool, but are kind of a pain in the butt. I have time, though. My friend doesn't usually need the hats until around September-ish, so I can put one on later, if I want to.
The only other thing I accomplished today was to get the plants I bought yesterday into the ground. Or pot, as the case may be.
I put my two zinnias into the small bed in front of the porch.
Once I'd done that, I kind of wished I'd bought enough to do the whole bed, but I didn't. Maybe next year. This year, I planted the six moss rose I also bought.
That filled up the little bed quite nicely, and I'm done planting for the year.
Here you can see the two Creeping Jenny in their hanging baskets.
By the end of the summer, they'll be trailing all the way down to the ground.
Then I mowed. Oh, the mowing. Always with the mowing...And while I was mowing, I was having imaginary conversations with my son. He said, "You could always get married again. Then you'd have someone to mow for you." I responded, "That's a mighty steep price to pay just to get your grass cut."
I'll just keep pushing that mower around, thank you very much.
Well, I haven't seen my rose breasted grosbeaks any more, but according to the book, they only pass through here during spring and fall migrations. I'm lucky I saw them that one time. I did, however, see a ruby throated hummingbird on my feeder, and a bluebird in the yard. I miss seeing my deer, but the risk of attracting one with CWD is just too great. Hopefully, the disease will be contained and the feeding ban will be lifted soon.
Finally, I know, I know. I said I was going to stop bombarding you with this group, but every time I turn around, I find a new song that I just can't stop listening to. This is one such song.
For what it's worth, there will always be room for a shanty man in my world. I am my father's daughter after all.
And I've got lots more videos to share in the posts to come. I know you just can't wait.
That awkward moment when you forgot you painted your toenails, and go to step into the shower and freak out because you think your feet are bleeding. Profusely.
Ummmm, happened to a friend. And that's all I have to say about that.
All day long, I was so excited. I've got a vacation day on April 25th. I had today to work, and tomorrow I could sleep in! Woo Hoo! Then I got to my brazing stand, opened my little book to write the date at the top. I checked my phone ...April 23rd. Son of a gun.
In the long run, it's better, though, because with Thursday off, I get Friday and Saturday off as well. I've been debating about going back in if we work the weekend, but I don't know if I will. I know I need the money, but I think I need the break from my stalker as well. One of my coworkers told me, "It must be exhausting." Yep, it is.
BTW, some of you have expressed concern about him maybe following me home or something. First of all, I don't think he would go to that extreme. But I do kind of wish he would. See, at home, I'm able to defend myself. At work, if you defend yourself in any way, you get fired, too. I just have to put up with it, because they subscribe to the idiotic idea that making us defenseless will somehow make us safer.
Fairy dust and unicorn farts, and all that.
Back in January, when I was putting my vacation time in, I had originally taken the day off to plant my flower beds and maybe get a little more work done around the house. Now with a potential four day weekend looming, I'm thinking I really need to go somewhere and do something. I don't know what, though. I've done enough things for a while, but I still don't want to spend the entire time just watching sea chanties on YouTube. (By the way, both spellings are correct. I've been using shanty lately, because it seems to be more popular, but really, I prefer chanty, so I'm going back to using it.)
Before I go any further, in the chaos of the last few days, I realized I've been remiss in posing the answer to the riddle I asked of my readers. For those of you with memories like mine, a week or so ago, I posted a video of a sea chanty which was supposed to contain a surprise for Whovians. I said I'd tell you the answer the next day, but I never did. I'm here to rectify that now. Here it is:
It's not the greatest shot, but do you recognize the guy in the gray hoodie? Yes, I did verify it with IMDB. It is Noel Clarke -- known to Whovians as....MICKEY THE IDIOT! And yes, I did shout it when I recognized him. Poor guy. No matter where he goes or what he does, he'll always be Mickey The Idiot -- as evidenced by thousands of geeks in thousands of theaters shouting aloud when watching Into Darkness...
That's Star Trek, for you non geeky types out there.
I also realized I've been remiss in posting my latest finished object. Which I completed on April 14th.
I guess in my excitement over the Clydesdales, I completely forgot. I saw the photo sitting there in my folder when I was resizing the one of my new Navy hat, which arrived today.
I know, I know. I keep buying hats, but the only time I wear them is when I'm either mowing or fishing. Say, there's an idea. I could get a new fishing license and go fishing over my long weekend.
Oh, wait. It's supposed to storm Thursday. Maybe I won't. Maybe I will just sit at home and watch sea chanties.
Speaking of chanties, here's one for you. Funny thing is, I don't really even like this song, but these guys sing it so well, I had to add it to my playlist anyway.
One thing I'm definitely looking forward to on my long weekend is staying up past 7:00 PM. But when one gets up ridiculously early, one...well, you know the drill by now.
Do you see these things? These things on the ground?
No, not the weeds coming up between the bricks. Which I totally need to kill, but probably totally won't. The other things. The little wormy looking things. Some of y'all know what those are, and some of you are just as excited as I am about seeing them on the ground. For the rest of you, I'll put you out of your misery and tell you. They're oak tassels.
The good news is, they're on the ground. There are still plenty on the trees, but they're starting to drop. Hallelujah! The Pollening is drawing to an end. Now, we enter Tornado Season Part 2. Which will wind down towards the end of May.
Just in time for Hurricane Season. Yippee.
Isn't living in America so much fun? I wouldn't know, because I'm always at work!
At least they've shortened the hours 10 on Friday, and 8 on Saturday. It's been so long since I've worked an 8 hour shift, I won't know what to do with myself. And yes, the dates are wrong. After I took the picture, she came back and put up another notice with the correct dates. Once again, I exhibited my apparent death wish and gleefully ran to tell Edna.
She said, "I know you love your overtime, but urg!" I replied, "No, I need the overtime. I don't love it". If it were all the same to me, I'd really rather be able to make ends meet without having to work 60-70 hours each week. I mean, I could, but maybe I want more than a ramen noodle existence.
One last thing, I promise I'm going to stop bombarding you with this group eventually, but this one has something special for Whovians. New Who Whovians, I mean. Not Classic Who Whovians.
I'm not going to tell you. Just see if you can spot it. If nobody guesses, I'll give you the answer tomorrow.
There I was, sitting in my chair, watching a DVRed episode of Survivor when my doorbell rang. I must admit, my first thought was, "Ugh, I hope it's not more Jehovah's Witnesses" as I went to answer. It wasn't JWs. It was worse.
It was Tomato Man.
Now, for those of you new to the blog, or those of you who have memories like mine, the story of The Tomato Man is as follows. One day last spring, the man who owns the house next door -- he doesn't live there, he owns it and rents it out-- came to me and asked if he could grow tomatoes in a little corner of my yard. I gladly gave my permission, on the condition that he take care of them.
I was very specific about that. "You gonna take care of them?" "Oh, yes, ma'am. I'll take care of them." Just so we were clear about it.
A few weeks later, he tilled up the land and planted a couple dozen tomato plants and some cantaloupe. A week or two after he'd planted his tomatoes, he came to my door and asked, "Do my tomato plants look a little dry to you?" I replied that I didn't know, and he looked startled, "You mean you haven't been out there to check on them?" I told him no, and he asked me if I would go out and water them a couple of times a week.
I said, "The deal was that you take care of them."
Well, to make a long story short, he abandoned the tomato patch, and it ended up being a clogged up mess of weeds
that didn't produce any edible tomatoes,
and took me three days to clean up that fall. I had to get out and with my gardening shears and clippers and cut the worst of it down to remove the tomato cages.
Then I had to use the weedeater to knock the rest of it down enough that I could mow that spot.
Now that you have the back story, let me get back to today. Tomato Man shows back up at my door and asks if he can plant tomatoes there again this year. Can you believe that? He didn't take care of them last year, and wants to plant more! I told him no. I also told him to get his tomato cages out of my yard, and he wants to act all mad at me. To that I say, you can get glad in the same britches you got mad in.
Then he told me I needed to get my plot surveyed so he'll know where the property lines are. Um, also no. If you want to know, you can get someone out here to survey it.
I've been told he's lazy, and pretty much worthless as a human being who takes advantage of nice people. Guess what? I'm not a nice person. He burned me once. It won't happen again.
One of my friends used to rent his house. You know, the one next door. She told me they wanted to buy it from him, but he had a long list of things he wanted them to fix at their own expense before he'd sell it to them. Um, again, no. They bought a different house.
He sulked off back to his car and drove away without a backward glance. Hopefully, that will be the end of my dealings with Tomato Man.
Now for some bad news. Wal-mart no longer carries any kind of weight management dog food at our local store. They've also stopped carrying deer corn for the season. I guess I'm going to have to make a trip down to Tractor Supply. Which isn't that big a deal, as it's just down the road a piece from Wal-mart.
And finally, my stalker was back to his old tricks today. Staring at me. All day. Stalking up and down the aisle behind me -- as if he were trying to either catch my attention or intimidate me. He didn't do either. I told my friend the other day, it's gotten to the point I'm almost afraid to even look up any more. He's the kind who takes incidental eye contact as equivalent to a marriage proposal. Actually, there are a few men out there who take incidental eye contact as equivalent to a marriage proposal. I hate being rude, but that's the only way to deal with people like that. Anyway, I just ignored him, and spent the day daydreaming about Port Isaac's Fisherman's Friends.
And by daydreaming about Port Isaac's Fisherman's Friends, I mean watching their videos in my head. I can do that you know. The song of choice for today was this one.
By the way, one of those men is definitely an introvert. I told you, we Innies have a nose for our own. I'm debating about whether I should make him my new imaginary boyfriend, or just keep him in the imaginary friend zone.
Before I dive into tonight's post, I have a little bit of housekeeping to do. If you come here through Instagram, be patient with me, as I've only recently begun to share my posts on that site. Sometimes I forget. I did so last night. Please, once you've finished this post, you can go to the blog's main page (on the computer, click the title; not sure how to do it on a phone or tablet) and read yesterday's post as well.
Now that that's taken care of, I have completely forgotten what I was going to blog about tonight. Ah the joys of arising at 3:00 AM. So, I'll tell you this instead.
One day last week, I was picking with the head of the brazing training department. He walked by and said, "Hi." I replied, "You're not my friend!" And just walked on. I didn't think much more about it, until today, when one of the brazing trainers came to me and said, "So, you're not my boss's friend." "Oh, he told you?" "He said, 'You know what she said to me?'" We had a good chuckle about it.
Later, the brazing boss came around and I called him over. I said, "I heard you were upset that you're not my friend. I'm touched that it means so much to you. You're still not my friend, but I'm touched."
He laughed and replied, "I wouldn't expect any less from you, Becky!"
Not sure why I told you that, but there it is. It's also another reason why I'm probably not married. Aside from the whole not wanting to be thing...
After work, I was sitting in my car in the parking lot waiting for "the crazies" to clear out when a coworker came up and asked me to roll down my window. She wanted to ask me some advice about a problem she was having with another coworker. No, I'm not going to break her confidence and share. I only tell you this to wonder, why do they ask me? I'm not exactly known for my interpersonal relationship skills -- see example above -- so I have no idea why would they think I would know how to handle something like this.
Ask me about history, or science, or the weather, or geeky sci-fi TV shows, but not about people. That is a topic about which I know nothing.
I advised her as best I could, then I guess she just needed a listening ear, because it was nearly 4:30 before I left the plant.
I've rambled and roamed all over this blog post, and still can't remember what I was going to tell you, so I'll just leave you with this. One of the groups of shanty men I follow recently released this new song. It is one of those Where Has This Song Been All My Life moments.
By the way, can you tell which of the group is the introvert? Because I can. We innies have a nose for our own.
See, I told you! I told you sea shanty festivals were a thing!
Oh, wait, no I didn't. That was in a private letter, not a blog post. A private letter I wrote last night. And haven't even mailed yet. Then, this morning, this popped up in my Facebook feed.
Creepy as heck or not, my point still stands. Sea shanty festivals are a thing, and I'm going! OK, not to this one, because it's halfway around the world, and there is that whole being broke thing...but one day, I'm going to one!
Maybe someone could organize one in Galveston some day. I'd go to that. Or maybe I wouldn't. I've been saying I'm going to go to Dickens On The Strand for years, and I've never been. It'd still be cool to have one there. They could do it on the Elissa. To which I've also never been. I've been by it, just not on it. Sigh...one day...one day...
Ah, well, in the meantime. there's always YouTube.
So, yesterday, I really wanted to do something to celebrate Independence Day. After much hemming and hawing, I decided to make a cake in my Texas shaped cake pan.
Those are totally a thing, y'all. For reals. I've had one for years. It usually hangs on the wall,
but I got it down, washed it up, and used it for this special occasion.
I was going to make a cake from scratch, but copped out and used a mix. And I used canned frosting as well. Seeing as how it is just me going to be eating it, I'm OK with that.
Not a word about my sloppy icing job. I still had noodle arms from splitting some firewood. And that icing was really thick. About halfway through, I thought, "Man, I should have warmed this icing up in the microwave. Oh, well, too late now." And I carried on. Noodle arms and all. Eh, it's good enough for me. I'd briefly thought about buying some fondant and decorating it like a Texas flag, but didn't really want to pay that much and do all that work. Being as it was just me and all.
The benefit of it being just me was that I could take whichever piece I wanted. You guessed it.
Home.
Funny thing about that cake, none of my cake carriers were quite big enough for a Texas sized cake. I had to put foil on my largest cookie sheet just to have something to put it on. Now that I've eaten Brownsville and El Paso, it might fit into one of my carriers. If not, I'll eat Amarillo, too. Then it'll for sure fit.
Remember that yarn I cast on and didn't quite know what I wanted to knit with it? This is what it ended up being.
No pattern. I just made it up as I went along. Next time, I might try to do the entire body in that pattern, as it makes the hat feel really thick and squishy. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage the decreases, though. I guess I'll make that part up as I go along, too.
OK, OK, guys, you can take your tinfoil hats off. That festival poster up top...I follow one of those groups listed on it. They posted it on their Facebook page. Just a happy -- if someone freaky -- coincidence. Facebook can't really read your mind.
