The Great "It" removal of 2009

It's gone.

I am so tired that I don't even think I can be funny about its removal. My arms are so sore that I'm surprised I can reach the keyboard. The only good thing about the whole experience is that I had the foresight to ask the boy to help me with the whole situation. Otherwise I'm sure that "it" would still be standing and I would be a hell of a lot more frustrated.

I originally sent the boy into the back yard with branch clippers to trim back the neighbor's trees that were growing into my back yard while I set out to pull weeds and the thing in the front yard.

I didn't get far.

Apparently if you let weeds live so long, they turn into stubborn little suckers that can not be removed, even if one grabs the weed as close to the root as possible and leans all her weight backwards to let gravity do the work.

As a bonus, I sure felt like I didn't weigh much after this experiment.

I got some weeds up, and marked the "stubborn" ones for removal when the boy was finished with the backyard. Then I turned my attention to "it." Around the perimeter of it, there were several new shoots. They were easy to remove so I got a bit cocky. When I got to the middle of the thing, the shoots were about an inch or so in diameter. Yeah - not so easy to remove.

So I edged my walkway and the front of my yard while I waited for the boy.

When the boy joined me up front, he had much more success with the weeds and "it" than I did. And as he pulled the larger stalks of it, we noticed that the roots were tubers. Curiouser and curiouser. Well, at least the answer to why the thing reappeared this year is solved. The boy suggested that they might be edible. Neither of us tried them.

I had the momentary concern that we were killing the tulips. But in the end, the boy convinced me that we can always plant more tulips. It would be worth it to get rid of the monstrosity. As it is, I don't think we got all the roots, (despite our best efforts) so I'll keep an eye out next year for shoots.

They were HEAVY. I can't stress that enough. What with the stalks being so tall, and the roots being so big, the uprooted things weighed at least 3-5lbs each.

As we were pulling "it" up, my neighbor emerged on his way to dinner. "Pulling up the mystery bush?" is what he asked.

Several responses went through my mind, but I contented myself with "Yep." It seemed safer that way.

He looked around the lawn at the weeds that had been uprooted and the thing that was in the process of being demolished, laughed and said, "You know, you should probably have done this at the beginning of the season instead of at the end."

Oh, hold me back.

We laughed and I promised to get him out there with me earlier next year. I don't think that's quite what he intended me to say.

You know, yard work when renting is a funny thing. I mean, it's not my house, so I don't really care. But I do want to be able to enjoy my lawn, and the weeds keep me from doing so. But lawn care = no fun. So it's an interesting position to be in. In the end I decided that I would be better in a home with grass and little to no landscaping. Let's be honest - I'm no green thumb, so the less I have to do to keep the lawn looking decent the better. But then again, I can't bring myself to uproot the bush that grows the pretty pink flowers. (We did trim it, though.)

After the weeds and it were pulled, I figured that since it was my house, I would release the boy from his obligation.

"Thanks for your help. All I have left to do is drag this stuff back to the discard pile out back. You can go ahead and go in if you want. I'll join you when I'm done."

I'm not going to lie. I fully expected a "It's no problem. I'll help you drag this stuff out back."

Instead I got an "Okay. See you in a bit for dinner."*

Which accounts for the achy arms today. I guess I deserved that.

*The boy would like me to tell you that he did give me a massage when I got inside, and he did have dinner ready and waiting.**

**The author of this blog would like to tell you that dinner was delivered pizza.***

***The boy would like to note that he paid for said pizza AND left the leftovers at the blog author's house.

It

So there's this thing.

In my yard.

It's not a bush....it's more like a whole lot of individual plants all growing together in the same general area. But the individual plant itself is like a stalk with leaves. Is it supposed to grow on its own? Or is it supposed to grow in a group like this monstrosity in my lawn? 'Cause the stalks in the middle of the grouping? They're dying from lack of sunlight. Seriously, WTF IS this? It's just...a thing. Last year the boy and I my father uprooted it, and yet here it is again! The REALLY weird thing is that this past spring, (after the uprooting of last year) the area that houses the thing sprouted red and yellow tulips. Really PRETTY red and yellow tulips that appeared with no assistance from me and made me really happy.

But then the tulips died, and the thing came back.

Seriously, any ideas? What is it??

See, the guy who lived in my house before me was a horticulturalist that worked at the IMA. So my lawn that was previously just grass now has this area in front of the house with random plants that pop up throughout the spring and summer and ostensibly need weeding and care and the like. Fantastic. I'm assuming it used to be beautiful. Seeing as how I have difficulty just keeping myself and the dogs alive and my neighbor procrastinates more than I do, we are obviously the perfect tenants for this setup. The original beauty of the lawn has now become more of a wild, untamed jungle beauty.

Most of the plants are pretty. And they bloom on their own each year with pretty orange or pink flowers. I like those plants. But then there are also green things with no flowers that grow around the pretty plants. In my world, no flowers = weeds. And THEN there's this patch of grass that I'm pretty sure is taller than my house. WTF is THAT?! Ugh.

So this weekend? I have scheduled the boy's assistance for Sunday. The thing? Yeah, I'm pulling it up. Anything green with no flowers in front of my house? Gone. The boy gets to use the big manly gas powered weed eater to mow through my back yard. He will also be the sounding board for, "Is this a weed?"

I know you're all jealous.

I just hope we don't hurt the tulips. Suggestions?

Green

I must admit, I took full advantage of my last few weeks of freedom in August. Ever since I returned from my family vacation,* between seeing friends, eating out with friends, going to concerts with friends and biking with friends (not to mention weddings and the like) my weeknights and weekends were pretty much packed full.** In fact, it was difficult to find a time that would work for me to return Blue to my parents. (He actually remains with me for now.)

Needless to say, lawn care has pretty much fallen to the wayside. In fact, the weeds have so encroached my front porch that there is only a narrow opening of about 6 inches that you can pass through to get into my house without being touched by something green.

I remember when lawn care was all about accomplishment. Yeah, that's done now.

In my defense, when I left for California, it was my neighbor's turn to mow the lawn. I left it pretty well controlled. I actually used the weed-eater the week before I departed. (I so rock.) When I returned (six days later) the lawn looked like a lawn that hadn't been mowed in about a two weeks. (The words "Man! What?? Was six days NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" might have been the first words out of my mouth when we arrived home from the airport.***)

Unfortunately, since I was so busy, I literally had no good time (when it wasn't raining) to get out and mow the lawn. In fact, it wasn't until ten days after I got home that the weather and my free time coincided enough for me to plan to mow. It was that day that my neighbor decided to pull his weight and I got home to a freshly mowed lawn.**** Neighbor is a boy, did I mention that? My sense of fairness is strained when I think about how he is a boy and I am a girl and I am doing the bulk of the yardwork for a house that we share.*****

And then it was left for twelve more days. I am not proud of this fact, but my schedule...it was full. So on Tuesday, I decided that since I could no longer see the dogs when they went outside, I must do what needs to be done. Sigh. First things first - must retreive mower that hasn't been used in over a month.

Ummmmm.... I don't know where Mr. Neighbor keeps his power mower, but it certainly isn't in the garage where I keep my puny, eco-friendly mower. Because the garage door? Was booby trapped by spider webs. Big ones. Big spider webs that had spiders in them, one of which caught his lunch as I was stopped simultaneously wondering how I was going to proceed and grateful that I had noticed the webs before walking right into them.

Easy enough - I had just seen Mr. Neighbor. I will go to him, play the girl card, and hope that he will dispose of said spiderwebs.****** Hmmmm....Mr. Neighbor isn't home. Okay. I can do this. Will get stick. Long stick. Maybe long branch instead. Done.

People, there was RESISTANCE before those webs broke. Seriously!! Resistance like they were made of teeny tiny steel cables! I have mutant spiders that are now planning to feast on my eyeballs in retaliation for destroying their home. EEEEEEK!

While shrieking, I did manage to get the mower out. I also pushed it in front of me all the way to the front lawn in order to kill any vengeful spiders who may have been planning their immediate attack. Ha ha spiders! Eat my eco-friendly blades!!

So now there's a nice little path cut through from my garage to my front lawn. Classy.

So I mowed. And I sweated. And I now have 13 bug bites on my legs. And the entire time I was wondering where on EARTH all this responsibility in my life came from? I mean, I didn't inadvertently request it, did I? But it got done. Of course, I was a panting, sweaty, disgusting mess when my other neighbor (two doors down) came up impeccably dressed and asked me if I would mind mowing HIS lawn.

Now, I know that I'm a tough grrrl and all that, but I'm using this mower. And even on a tiny lawn, it's not like I make it look effortless. It generally takes between 30 - 45 minutes to get my lawn done,******* and that doesn't include the time taken to curse at random sticks that abruptly stop my progress on a regular basis.********

So I laughed and declined, but offered him the use of my mower.

Folks, he wasn't kidding. (!!!)

"Oh honey, I don't DO yard work."

Yeah. I don't either.

"But I'll pay you!"

Woah. Did NOT see that coming.

I politely declined again and told him that basically there wasn't enough money in the world...even though I'm a poor starving student. But that anytime he wanted to borrow my mower! Or have his roommate borrow my mower! (I subsequently found out that his roommate doesn't do yard work either) He was more than welcome.

And then I totally referred him to my procrastinating neighbor with a power mower. Wonder how that will work out? As of today, his lawn still isn't mowed. My lawn looks better than his lawn. Nah nah nah nah nah!

*PS. Don't see Watchmen

**Why yes, I was trying to overdose on friends before school started so that perhaps I wouldn't miss them as much when I was in hell.

***The boy's response was, "Wow. Is that what you sound like when I put things off too?" The answer is "indubitably."

****Coincidentally also the day I stopped hating him.

*****Fine. I'm not a feminist. I mean, I can do anything I want to do, and anything a man can do, but I believe that there are some things that girls should be able to pass off if there is an able bodied man (with a power mower!!!) around, and yard work is one of them. I'll handle getting the discounts at the video game store. Just hand me that push-up bra over there.

******Note to self. This process? Not elective. Needs to be repeated each year. Purchase bug bombs in bulk.

*******You can be guaranteed that it doesn't matter how long it takes, the boy will show up the moment I've put the mower away. I'm not convinced he's not spying on me to find the opportune time to arrive at casa de Emily.

********I'm pretty sure I curse out loud, too. I have my iPod in, so I can't be sure, but I have noticed that the moms take all their kids indoors when they see me lugging out my mower.

Dependency

I know - you thought I had abandoned you, right? Fear not. I have not abandoned you, nor have I abandoned this blog. I have about five posts sitting in drafts right now that I can't seem to fully flesh out into something that can see the light of day*, but I'm working on it - promise.

So in the meantime, I thought I would share a little rant with you. Just a tiny one because I miraculously woke up in a fantastic mood this morning. Miraculous because today begins school again, in honor of which I have shifted my work hours from 8-5 to 7-4.

In case you can't do the math, that means I have to get up a whole hour earlier than usual. And we all know how much I love mornings.**

So today begins classes. It is Wednesday, so I should have o-chem lecture followed by o-chem lab. Yesterday I found out that I did not have lab until next week. That was a happy moment. But for the last two weeks, I have been stalking the o-chem website for some information on the course schedule, syllabus, notes....anything. At first it was just casual curiosity. I mean, I would rather be prepared than caught without notes on day one. But as the students invaded the chat room on said website, some of whom are taking o-chem for the second or third time, and planned a study group that begins after the first class I began to get nervous. I mean, don't get me wrong...I have faith in my intelligence. But I'm also not immune to mass hysteria. The reputation for o-chem preceeds the class. It's tough. And if everyone else is already freaking out....well....

So I look for a syllabus. Some notes. A schedule. Something to prepare me for the first day of class.

And it appears....today. At 1:06pm to be exact. For a class that begins at 6:00pm.

And these lecture notes...they're not small documents. I would say they average 40 pages with the largest being 56 pages. Fifty-six pages! And the first lecture dives right into the material. Oh, and the syllabus suggests that to succeed in class, I should read the material ahead of time.

Okay. I'll do that in the, um....hour I have before class. Thanks Mr. Professor, sir!

Now, I realize that I am not a traditional student. I truly do. And I realize most full time students might have time between lunch and their evening class to do the required reading. But I still think that this timeframe is a little short. I mean, I believe that professors begin their school year before the students, right? And I know they're busy people, but part of preparing for their classes is informing the students of what's going on in that class, right? I mean, my first tuition bill was due the 18th... Is it too much to ask that when I pay tuition I have access to my course information?

I'm just so frustrated. I could go on and on.

To his credit, now that one thing is available, everything for the class is available. So I can work ahead to my heart's content. But I just feel like this weekend I will be playing catch up doing the reading for the material that we will cover tonight, instead of being able to read ahead. Again with the non-traditional student, but with classes M-Th evenings, I only have so many hours in which to study.

I guess I should read instead of blog, huh? Okay okay, point taken. Any chance one of you is an organic chem tutor on the side?

*Must work on the snark. The snark, it is heavy in those drafts.

**Personally, I think the iced vanilla latte did a lot for my mood this morning. And I may have stumbled in at 7:10am. Sigh. I'll aim for better tomorrow. I have all semester to perfect the early work arrival.

Like the Back of my Hand

Once upon a time my family went to a convention and I witnessed a husband bring his wife a plate from the buffet, not knowing that she had already gone up to get one of her own.

The plates were identical.

I thought that was so romantic. They had been together for so long and he knew her so well. I decided then and there that I wanted that someday. Someday my best friend will know me and understand me so well, it will be like we're one. (I was such a girl.) Still, I despaired of that ever happening. For all of my routine and resistance to change, and for all of my bluntness and wearing my heart on my sleeve, I tend to think of myself as very complex and difficult to predict. I'm not really sure why. I know the reality, but I guess every woman would rather think of herself as an enigma - a puzzle that her significant other will never really figure out.

Back when the boy and I had money (I call that time BS....before school) we went to dinner at a smallish restaurant near our apartment. It was a Sunday evening, and there weren't many patrons present besides us. In an effort to increase traffic in a restaurant that was surrounded by several other more well-known options, the restaurant had a promotional event each night that week. Completely unaware, the boy and I wandered in on the night there was a magician present.

We ordered and watched as the magician spoke to the few other occupied tables. He was funny and engaging and had the usual repitoire of rope tricks, balloon tricks, and coin tricks. When he got to our table, he asked us if we wanted to help him out with a card trick. Amused, we agreed.

The idea was that I would get to pick a card out of the deck, and put it into a sealed envelope. The magician would then sign a second sealed envelope, and magically my card would appear in that envelope instead. As he walked away to get a second envelope for himself, I was left with the task of picking a card. I perused the deck, picked my card, sat satisfied for about 10 seconds before exclaiming "Oh! I know!" and returning the first card in favor of a second. I then looked at the boy and said in flirtatiously sing-song voice, "I'll bet you can't guess what card I chose"

With my batting eyes and suggestive grin, I figured it wouldn't be difficult for the boy to guess that I had chosen the Queen of Hearts. I'm not generally good at "subtle" and this was an occasion where I was doing my best to be obvious. Still, I was miffed at his air of satisfaction after he guessed correctly. His smug smile suggested that he would have guessed correctly even without my play-acting. So I said, "Okay hotshot, but I'll bet you can't guess which card I initially chose and then discarded."

I sat back, satisfied that he had a 1 in 51 chance of being correct and the odds were completely in my favor. He concentrated for a moment, and despite my prodding, wouldn't be rushed in his guess. Finally, his face cleared. I would be lying if I said I didn't almost choke on my appetizer when he said, "The Ace of Spades."

Now, I know that I chose that card because of Brett Maverick. But WTF? A love of movies is not something that the boy and I share. How on earth did he guess THAT? I sat in stunned silence for a moment and then blurted, "Get out of my HEAD!"

The boy was insufferably proud of himself. Faced with an example of almost exactly what I had wished for, I was flabbergasted. Holy cow! This MUST be the guy for me! He knows me to the depths of my very SOUL! How else could he have possibly guessed which card I pulled? I mean, there are 52 cards in the deck and he picked correctly! I am a complex riddle which he has solved!! He must have so many insights into my personality! He knows me so well. We are going to be together forever and we will be like one. Wow. I am so very moved.

I finally mustered up the courage to ask him how he knew which card I had originally chosen.

"Easy. It's the prettiest one. You're attracted to shiny pretty things. Sort of like a fish."

Apparently no deep insights are needed. I like shiny pretty things. There's no international woman of mystery here - I am like a fish. I was busy comparing myself to the riddle of the sphinx when I should have been looking at a smallmouth bass. Hmmm....

Then I have to wonder, am I dating him because he's a good fisherman, or because he's shiny and pretty?

After all of that, I wasn't at all surprised to have the magician produce my card from the signed envelope. I kept both the card and the signed envelope to remind me that no deep insights are needed here.... just a lot of patience and a little good luck.

A Change of Heart

I have had a two-dog household again since July 25th, and I am about done. It's not that I don't love Blue, it's just that Casey and I had settled into our routine and we were doing just fine. It's a difficult adjustment to make. Before, the two dog house was the norm. I didn't know how peaceful things could be with only one dog. Now, it's hard to forget.

Not to mention that I had forgotten that Blue slobbers all over everything and farts all. the. time. Oh, and he'll walk all over you and sit right on top of you if you happen to be in the spot on the couch that he has designated as his. And he steals Casey's treats on a regular basis. Doesn't matter how handsome he is, he's your typical boy, and I have gotten used to an all-female household.

So when making arrangements to return him to my parents' house, I was surprised to hear my father say that I could keep Blue after I asked him whether or not he missed having a dog around. That their house really doesn't need any animals at all. Not even the two cats my parents currently live with.

I cautiously said, "Dad, if you don't WANT Blue, I don't want to force him on you. He can stay here, no problem." While inside I was pleading, "no, no! Dear God, NO!!"

My father responded equally as cautiously. "If you WANT to keep him, that's okay."

I considered for a moment. "Dad, he can stay. It's no problem. He's already here and I don't want to put you out at all."

A sigh. "No, it's just that I feel we're being cruel. You know, here he gets to be outside all the time, he gets to lay on the couch all day..."

"...while here he's in a crate all day while I'm at work. I know. But dad, he's a dog. He doesn't understand that. All he knows is that when he's with Emily, this is how it is. It's not better or worse than at your house. It just is. Dogs live in the moment."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll take Blue if you take Dorian."

A little background on Dorian. My parents already had one cat, Indy*, when my brother brought home another cat from college. That cat, unfortunately, perished due to an unfortunate incident after only a short time at my parent's house. But my mother was convinced that Indy was "lonely" without a companion.** So off to the Humane Society they went. And brought home Dorian. Who my brother is now convinced was drugged when they met him.

Since then, Dorian has gotten into the trash, meowed so loudly as to wake my parents, taught Indy that it was okay to meow at all hours to get what he wants, proceeded to overeat (and regurgitate) regularly, and attacks the pit bulls that visit at every opportunity. Even without claws.

Suffice to say that no one really likes Dorian. But since all creatures need love (except for satan-dog) and because of a little pressure from their animal-minded daughter, Dorian stays.

Struggling not to laugh, I responded, "What happened now?"

"Oh, I plugged in your mother's speaker for the TV, and Dorian immediately started chewing on the wires. So I gave him a little kick. And then I came back downstairs later and he had pooped on my seat!"

Having some experience with a vindictive cat before, I am failing miserably at containing my laughter at this point.

"I'm sorry dad, but Laney is an only cat. No other cats would survive in my house."

"Oh that's okay. If she kills him, just dig a little hole out back and dump him in it."

"DAD!!"

None of this diverted me from the worry that perhaps I was shoving Blue into an unwelcome household. Until I spoke to my mother.

"Okay, so we'll meet you to pick up Blue-Blue on Sunday, right?"

"Perfect."

"And the doctors told me that I need to walk as much as possible to avoid blood clots after surgery. So it will be good to have him back because I am going to walk with him in the mornings. Hopefully it won't be as hot as it has been because you know he can't stand the heat. Have you trimmed his nails? Does he miss us?"

And then I realized that it doesn't really matter unless the entire household has a change of heart. As long as Blue is still my mom's baby, he's welcome in their house.

Dorian, on the other hand....

*aka "Super Cat," "Best Cat Ever," and "Cat that thinks he's a dog."

**And I believe, under the assumption that all cats were as fantastic as Indy.

All Dogs go to Heaven

So, there's this dog....

Side note: It's gotten to the point where the boy hears a story begin that way and literally shudders. It's not that I pressure him to adopt another dog, or that I even consider adopting another dog (good GOD no,) it's just that he has to hear me talk about another "cutest dog ever" and "greatest story" and lament the fact that I can't save them all (though lord knows I try)...and he's a guy. Apparently he's better at the whole "not getting attached" thing.

So, back to the dog. See, there's this dog. More specifically, there's this five week old puppy. More specifically, there's this five week old pit bull puppy that was abused. Abused to the point where she had to have her left eye removed.

A fact that makes me want to track down her abuser with a baseball bat and beat them until THEIR left eye has to be removed.

But I digress.

I met her the day after surgery. When she had wiggled out of her little e-collar and the bandage that had been placed across her eye had been bumped askew. She looked like a little pirate.

We found a smaller e-collar that fit her better, removed the bandage from her eye (she really didn't seem cool with the whole bandage-on-her-head thing) and instead taped up her paw so that she couldn't scratch at her stitches.

Her tail was wagging the entire time we were doing this. And she was alterntately attempting to lick my fingers and bite them.

I was in love. And now I must find her a hand-picked home. I mean, she can't just go to anyone. (ahem, Alisa, ahem.)

I took the boy to meet her on Sunday. Given the size of her stomach, I'm going to say she's recovering just fine. Eating and recovering. Recovering and eating. She's a regular little roly poly. The office manager at the clinic wants to call her Winky. Well, she did want to call her winky. Until I explained that winky was also slang for penis. (True story.) So we settled on Wink.

So, internets - meet Wink. Help me find her a home. She'll be a great dog for someone with a big heart. And she's got the bonus of being able to wear the coolest costume ever for Halloween. (Complete with eye patch.)

And lo, there were movies

Last week the boy and I went to visit my family in California.

We had a ball.

It was the perfect mix of watching movies and chilling out and doing touristy things. Perfect. Absolutely.

A while ago I blogged that my basic nature is to be selfish, and it was only a childhood trauma that makes me go against that nature. Now? I'm not so sure. I spent almost six full days with my cousin who is one of the most selfless, giving, kind-hearted people I've ever met. I'm pretty sure she would give her left arm to someone she loved with no questions asked - and they wouldn't even need a good reason to need it. I know I'm not that giving, but if that's her basic nature, maybe it runs in the family? Hopefully? At least it gives me something to aim for.

Her husband? Well, he kept insinuating that I wouldn't like him. But anyone who will patiently answer my endless litany of questions about comic book superheroes and never once insinuate that I'm an idiot...well, he gets thumbs up from me. (I have now learned that Marvel comics = good. DC Comics = not as good. And the Hulk? He's sort of good AND bad. And Superman kind of sucks. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?)

There are several aspects of this vacation that I want to cover, so I'll take it in pieces. The first one is movies. Seeing as how the boy and I are on a tightly controlled budget (ie: "No Money") we haven't been to the movie theater in ages, and we haven't purchased a DVD since lord-knows-when, so we arrived in California starving for new movies in a way that we didn't even know we were starving. When we arrived at my cousin's place, it was like heaven. They are total movie buffs and owned every movie we wanted to see, plus some we didn't know we wanted to see (yet.) Needless to say, we watched some movies. (Bless my family for sitting through movies they had already seen and through my endless questions about "What happens next?" or "Does he die?!")

Some highlights? (NOTE: If you haven't seen the movies noted, there are some minor spoilers. Don't blame me if you want to see these old movies that are already available on DVD, haven't gotten around to it, and yet choose to continue reading.)

The Incredible Hulk with Ed Norton was good. I would rate it as an "I'm glad I watched it, but probably won't own it." I will say, however, that it has one of the best fight scenes I've ever seen. Ever. Seriously. I know you might have the impression that I'm a girly girl (can't imagine why you would think that...) but I do love me some things that are definitely in the "boy" range. A fight scene where Hulk fights Abomination and pulls out his arm bone and stabs him with it would fall into that category. One might say I was impressed with that scene. Perhaps enough to continue talking about it all weekend long. Seriously. He pulls out Abomination's arm bone and then STABS HIM WITH IT. It was so cool.

Taken was another good one. It's relatively new, so I won't spoil anything. I'll just say, as my cousin so succintly put it, "You don't fuck with a Jedi master." I'll put this one on the "I'm glad I watched it and I might own it someday" list. However, it's all about the suspense, and that's one thing that I can't handle. At all. Kudos to my family for not duct taping my mouth shut.

Iron Man was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I'll put that on my "Must own SOON" list. I seriously can't say enough about it. It's 126 minutes long but felt like it was no longer than an hour. It FLEW by. Flew. I recommend you go see it now if you haven't. Right now. Go on. This blog can wait. I'm not even going to spoil it for you except to say that the creepy guy is the bad guy. You know, the one who's always the bad guy? (and even when he's not, he's still creepy.)

Which brings me to Watchmen. This one is on my "Wish I could get those hours of my life back" list. But my mom once told me that if I can't say something nice, then I shouldn't say anything at all. So I won't say anything at all. Except maybe to say that it might have been over my head, because I just didn't get it. Oh, and there's a bright blue penis that's pretty distracting in some scenes. Consider yourself warned.

There were other movies also, but I would hate for you to think that we spent the entire 6 days sitting on the couch. Because that would be wrong. Sometimes I sat on the floor :-)

Seriously, we did other things too, and I'll get to those (with pictures) as soon as I can find the motivation. As alluded to previously, we saw redwoods. And we took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I'll share soon.

Okay...maybe it was hormones

I just read this, and I'm tearing up at my desk. My boss keeps asking me what's wrong, and I can't exactly tell him that I was reading the best of Craigslist on the sly when I should have been giving the bill paying my complete attention. Nor can I explain to him that I was looking for the good laugh that Craigslist is reliable in providing me (see: this) and instead found a touching story that is making my nose turn Rudolph red, and my eyes puff up like I haven't slept in weeks. (I am not a pretty crier btw.)

So instead I'm just telling him that it's allergies. We'll keep this between us, okay?

Vacation blog coming. Just hold your horses. I'm not known for recovering from non-routine activities very quickly.