veg4me

veg4paws

I wish I could stop time. Just pause it now and then, possibly rewind once in a while. Stretch out the days to 30 hours sometimes.

Halloween is coming and I have been sick since last weekend. Shortly after beginning my daughter's costume, the fever and upset stomach started. By the middle of this week someone was running serrated knives inside my ears and pouring sludge down my throat. Still, the days passed by and the 31st creeps nearer with every tick. Where's that damn pause button!

Yesterday, sitting on the couch armed with Tivo'd "What Not to Wear" episodes, I went back to work on the black cat costume. Hot tea and tissues on one side, black mittens and fake nails on the other. Guess which two things were for the costume?

One paw down. Sure, I didn't do the greatest job clipping the fake nails into claw shapes, but who gives a hoot. The whole point of Halloween being at night is so you can take some creative license with your costume and no one will be able to tell, right?

I fast forwarded through some Tivo'd commercials and set to work on paw #2. The mitten started to smoke as the glue hit the fabric this time. I accidentally glued my right hand to the underside of the mitten. I yanked and pulled and broke my hand free, but it was covered in black tufts of fake fur now. Looks like I'm going to be a black cat for Halloween too now.

I finished the second mitten and laid them side by side to admire them.

That's when I made a mental note. Cold medicine and crafts don't mix.

Sure, I made two paw mittens. Two RIGHT HAND paw mittens.

Where's that rewind button?

veg4furry

This week at my daughter's dance class the instructor asked the girls "What are you going to be for Halloween?"

Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses got 4 mentions, there were 3 future Little Mermaids and one blank stare. We hadn't gotten that far at our house.

"Oh shit" I thought. "Please don't let her say something offensive!". Girl characters aren't a favorite thing of hers.

Then I thought "Please don't let her name a costume that I can't make!"

If given the choice, I would rather hear her yell "Barbie is stupid!" versus hearing her respond "I want to be a dragon with blue scales and a long green tail that breathes fire!" I can't sew that well.

"I'm going to be a black cat!" she announced, full of confidence.

Huh? A black cat? Since when?

Well, it's sort of unimaginative, but I can handle it.

Tonight while my husband took the two kids out for ice cream I started working on the head. When they walked in the door with mouths full of ice cream I didn't hear them coming.

I was totally busted wearing part of my daughter's Halloween costume.

It's so warm and fuzzy I am seriously considering making a hat for myself.

What are you going to be for Halloween?!

veg4hometour

How long can a person use the excuse "We just moved in"?

In all honesty, with 7 moves in 9 years we are constantly in flux.

"What's that box doing there in the corner?" Um, it's either the photo albums we haven't unpacked yet or the dish towels that I just packed for our next move.

"Where do you keep your blender?" Let's see, I think it's under the island. Wait, no that was the house in California. I think I keep the blender above the stove in this house. Shit, do I even have a blender? Maybe the movers lost it.

Last night, six weeks into our latest move, I stumbled upon a Blog Photo Tour of Homes. I was supposed to be stripping wallpaper in the sunroom, but I decided to grab my camera and participate instead.  Since I had all of the old real estate listing photos, I decided to make this a Before and After photo tour.

Does eastern North Carolina look as boring as it feels?

FRONT OF HOUSE- I spent $300 at the nursery last week trying to liven up the front of the house. Plant nursery of course, since you don't see babies perched on my rooftop. Once I finished dumping the 12th bag of mulch into the planting beds, a stray white cat came up and crapped in between the flowers. Turns out I spent two weeks worth of grocery money on a giant litter box.

KITCHEN- The bottom picture is unpacking day. I will swear to you in a court of law that my kitchen only looks like this on unpacking day...and whenever I try to cook dinner. When we purchased the house we knew we were going to have to buy a fridge when we moved in. All the other appliances conveyed. I really wanted a fancy fridge, a NON WHITE fridge. Yet, all I needed was a cold box to store milk, juice boxes, apples, several varieties of cheese and a colder box on the other side to store ice cream and veggie burgers. So, I trotted off to Lowe's and bought a WHITE fridge. Within a week it was determined that our WHITE dishwasher was below par. Off to Lowe's I went to buy a WHITE dishwasher to match our new WHITE fridge. Last week I was preparing an upside down blueberry/plum cake and started the timer on the WHITE microwave. BEEP BEEP BEEP! 40 minutes. Start! I slid the cake into the oven and walked away.

Twenty five minutes later the kids were calling for me "Maaaa....something smells funny!"

"Don't make fun of my baking or I'll make you eat some!" I replied.

And then I smelled it too. The aroma of mishap that so often fills my house. Turns out that instead of pushing TIMER START, I just pushed START. ON AN EMPTY MICROWAVE. I microwaved a glass turntable tray into oblivion and left a scorched hole in the bottom of the microwave. Guess who will be going to Lowe's on payday to buy yet another WHITE appliance.I could've gotten away with a stainless steel fridge and white dishwasher/stove/microwave. I probably could've even pulled off a stainless steel dishwasher with a white fridge/stove and microwave, but I just don't know if I can swing a stainless steel microwave when I have a white fridge/stove/dishwasher.

I have also resorted to covering my counter tops with glass cutting boards. The real estate listing stated "New solid granite counter tops!" However, they are psuedo granite wannabe countertops that can't withstand heat of any kind. In fact, I am mildly surprised that the radioactive blast from the microwave didn't cause them to warp. I can't even stand near them when I have a fever for fear they might bubble.

DINING ROOM- Before shot on top. It was nice enough in that sort of "please don't eat spaghetti in the dining room" kind of way. The inexpensive brass...no, I won't call it a chandelier- wait, I know what to call it- a chandeLIAR... looked so tiny compared to our table, like it was shining down on us from another dimension, one where 40 watt bulbs are so bright they need to be covered by little shades. I bought the new fixture, but left the old curtains. I'm not sure why. They don't cover anything. The windows all look out onto the street, so until I perfect my table manners we won't be eating spaghetti in there either.

FAMILY ROOM/DEN/LIVING ROOM/TV ROOM-  Before picture on the bottom. We don't know what to call this room. The old owners probably referred to it as the "oddly matched chair room" and oddly enough we have a chair similar to one of theirs that we put in the same corner. Guess we could call it the Odd Room.

REST OF THE HOUSE NOT AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING UNTIL WE SELL THIS HOUSE IN TWO YEARS. IT SHOULD BE UNPACKED BY THEN!

veg4wicker

Did you hear the headline on the news about the woman who was newly transplanted to North Carolina and went apeshit in the local Goodwill, throwing wicker chairs through the glass doors?

Well, there's only one reason you didn't hear about it. That same woman summoned the last bit of self control she had stored away after spending two weeks listening to people talk like this and like this.

Looking back on it now, I don't know what came over me. Sure, I understand why my blood pressure reached "fried food every night" level, but what possessed me to want a wicker set? What am I? Some kind of Southern Belle sitting in a satin, pink, poofy gown on my front porch? Do I have buckets of sweet tea sitting at the ready for the much anticipated time when a gentleman caller arrives?

Yes, I have a wrap around porch on my house. It's of majestic proportions. Feet upon feet of space dying to be embellished with wicker and rocking chairs. However, at heart I am a wrought iron kind of girl who found herself at Goodwill thinking "Wicker! I love wicker!" when I laid eyes on a 3 piece set.

All the love left my body about 2 minutes later when I asked the manager if he would assist me in carrying the loveseat out to my truck to see if it would fit before I paid for it.

"Ma'am...I am afraid I can't do that"

Turns out that Goodwill's policy of spreading Goodwill stops at the door. He informed me that I had 3 days to pick up the merchandise after I paid for it, so don't worry if it doesn't fit in the truck. Yes, of course! I see your reasoning! If this loveseat doesn't fit today, I can try again tomorrow! Golly, that'd be fun. I can taste the Heinz 57 sense of anticipation when I roll up in front of the brick building, 3 days in a row, only to leave minutes later, totally defeated when Surprise! The loveseat still doesn't fit!

Not one to give up without a fight, I don my mental boxing gloves and tell the man that today is the only day I have to pick up this set of wicker.

"Ma'am...(ohmygod this is such a long pause please speak!)..I can help you carry the items to your vehicle if you sign a release stating that I am not responsible if something happens to your items once they enter the parking lot."

I glance outside and see 2 elderly women with Blueblockers making their way across the lot and a young mom with way too many kids. 300 feet away two cars sit at a traffic signal.

"I'll take my chances, give me the form!"

"Welllll........Ma'aaaaaaammmmm...you are not allowed to sign the form until the merchandise is paid for"

Inside my head a tiny bell dings, signifying the beginning of another round of mental fancy footwork.

"Okay, so I have to stand in line, pay for the items, sign the release form and then you will help me carry the items out to my truck ( I can lift the two chairs just fine, but the loveseat is way too big for one person to lift) and if the loveseat doesn't fit at that point in time, I have to bring it back inside the store, get back in line and return the items?"

"No Ma'am"

He pauses for another second and says,

"We don't accept returns"

veg4dixie

Since I am obviously having trouble with this Southern dialect (see below post), I thought I would try out this little test. I was horrified to learn that I was 28% Dixie. I will start keeping a tally of how many times a day no one here in NC understands me. Wouldn't be interesting if it was 72% of the time?

Take the test and find out. More misunderstandings and frustrating interactions to be discussed in the near future.

veg4reasons

I've got a new catchphrase.

Picnic Ham.

See, we moved to North Carolina from Tucson, Arizona last week. Oddly enough, more people spoke an English dialect that I understood when I lived an hour from Mexico vs. living here.

Yesterday my husband and I stood in front of Lowe's admiring a grill. A husband and wife approached us and our stomachs sank with the fear that yet another stranger was going to invite us to attend their church.

Hey, people of North Carolina! I can't make it through a traffic light without passing a church! If I needed a church and couldn't find one, well shit, that would be two things I need. A church and glasses. Beat someone else with your bible.

So this couple surrounded us and started speaking in tongues. Not about church, but about grills.

My husband and I stood there transfixed. By the look on his face I could tell my husband (who is deaf in one ear to begin with) wasn't understanding a word. As his loving wife I did what I could to assist him, which was run to the end of the grill display and pretend to make a call to no one on my dead cell phone.

The wife navigated her way through the grills, rapidly approaching me. She smiled and said something that sounded like "We eat every meal out!", so I replied "We eat every meal at home!". Which is a blatant lie but I wanted to sever any potential bond she was trying to form.

As I walked back to my husband I heard the man drawl out a series of words that only Forrest Gump himself could've understood. We smiled at him, he stared back at us. Finally they shrugged and walked off.

"What the sam hell were they saying?!" I demanded.

"Hell if I know!"

With a wry smile I asked my husband, "Did you hear what I heard?"

"Picnic ham!" we shouted simultaneously.

All we could decipher out of all those words that crossed his teeth was "two hour picnic ham", except he spoke it like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his mouth was full of tobacco. "Pick-nick-am".

We never will be sure what the purpose was of them confronting us during our buying decision. We thought maybe they were trying to steer us away from purchasing that particular grill (Pick Nickam!) or maybe they were just inviting us over for lunch ( a picnic?) or maybe they were telling us to chose Nick as our salesman (Pick Nick!)

Any way you toss the dice, there's a married couple walking around this town thinking they just saw the two dumbest people in the world at Lowe's. Its either us or them.

veg4cancer

Standing on the wheel of misfortune under the TV monitors at the gym,I looked up to see news headlines scrolling above my head.

Something about new advances in breast cancer treatment.

Something about the killing of a 10 year old girl.

Something about power blackouts in Texas.

Something about Donald Rumsfeld.

Tonight when I got home I checked my usual source of news, the internet. Imagine my confusion when I read this headline on Google News (photo is not doctored in any sense).

Is Donald Rumsfeld wiping away a solitary tear because he has been diagnosed with cancer of the breasts? Is this why the generals are calling for his dismissal?

I clicked on the link and the article opened up with the following statement.

"The possibility of Rumsfeld leaving has definitely crossed the President's mind," Time magazine quotes an unnamed former White House official as saying.

"The key to it is the relationship with Cheney, and I don't know where that is right now."

Donald Rumsfeld has breast cancer and is in a relationship with Dick?

This is the weirdest administration ever.

veg4collision

Seeing almost, could've, would've, should've car accidents with people chatting away on cell phones while they are driving is common.

Here in Tucson a bad driver is one of two things. A mom on a cell phone driving a Hummer conducting very important playdates while navigating city streets or a 95 year old who moved here when their doctor told him the weather was good for their arthritic knees. That doctor failed to tell the senior citizen that the sidewalk gets so hot here, it melts the end of your walking cane and the soles of your orthopedic shoes. You have to walk extremely fast if you don't want to resemble that part in Indiana Jones when the guys face melts. Old people don't walk fast. Old people don't drive fast. Old people don't carry cell phones. How are they going to call for help when they melt from the waist down at the corner of 5th and Broadway?

Even more annoying is this scenario : You are shopping for something and enjoying the peace and quiet of roaming the aisles of TJ Maxx without your children. You barely made it there alive because a mom driving a giant, yellow H2 turned in front of you as you pulled into the plaza and you had to speed up to avoid a crash. As you sped up, an elderly woman enters the crosswalk in front of TJ Maxx and she walks.so.slow. Granny! You're going to melt! Get a move on!

You make it into the store and stand in the aisle deciding between 2 shirts when you hear a bubbly "Hi!"

Taken aback, you give the lady across the aisle a half assed smile and wonder where the hell you might know her from.

You continue to stare at her until SHE looks uncomfortable and walks away.

That's when you notice she's on her cell.

I can't tell you how many people I've said "Hello!" back to or replied "Umm, fine. Thanks" when they walk next to me and say "Hey! How are ya?". You should be required to hang a red flag from your rear bumper or from your head if you are driving or walking or shopping while chatting on your itty, bitty, indiscernible phone. Give me a heads up for pete's sake. I don't want to be your friend. Don't trick me into acting like I do.

Today at the supermarket I saw THE THING that is going to make my week.

Standing in line to check out, the lady ahead of me was on her cell. She couldn't be bothered enough to help the cashier bag her groceries as there was no bagger kid around. She stood there and chatted as her white bread got smashed by case after case of Coke at the end of the conveyer belt.

She finally checked out and pranced on her way. I quickly checked out (since I helped bag my groceries!) and followed her out of the store.

Another cell phone using lady was entering the store at a rapid pace. Both of these women were totally oblivious to anything other than their super duper important conversations about nail polish and then IT happened.

They slammed right into one another.

BAM!! Head on collision of two blondes on cells in aisle 3 please!

Damn, it's going to be a good week.

veg4realtors

Last week the veg4fam was blindsided by a vengeful intestinal bug that caused an 8 year old to involuntarily crap his pants and a 4 year old to projectile vomit at Olympic distances while watching a 3D IMAX.

Realtors were calling the house, with a psychic, freaky ability to determine the exact moment one of the 4 of us was either suffering through a bout of explosive diarrhea or about to give birth to last night's dinner through our mouth.

Hi! I'm calling from ABC Realty and I have a client that is interested in your property! We are on our way over right now!

So, we'd quickly disinfect the house and hobble, hunched over at the waist to the playground one street over in order to be out of the house when they arrived. Then we'd stagger home, woozy with nausea to see how many people had signed in on the visitors sheet.

One name on our sign in sheet was Montana Meadows. Mistah Checka muttered "Fuckin cow pasture" and fell over onto the couch, holding his gut.

Today another amped up  realtor called and chirped "Hello! I am Animalina and I would like to see your house!'.

I thought to myself, why do realtors have such porn star names? I chalked it up to being so close to the Mexican border and just assumed it was a weird little pet (haha, pet!) Spanish name that her parents gave her.

When she showed up I asked "Are you Animalina?"

"Yes"

"Okay, well Animalina, I am going to go for a walk with my daughter, enjoy looking around"

As she walked to the back door I remembered that the dogs were outside.

"Oh, Animalina? The dogs are locked in the side gate, just thought you should know"

She gave me an odd look and continued on her way.

As I walked back to the house she was walking out the front door and I said with a wide smile "Have a great day, Animalina!"

I'm so desperate to sell my house, I was just trying to kill her with kindness.

She opened her car door and as she was getting in I instructed Cakes to say goodbye to Animalina.

"Buh bye Animalina!"

Off she went.

I came inside and checked the sign in sheet.

First name Ana. Last name Molina.

veg4pot

Town: Pot Paintings on House Not Illegal

By Associated Press

5 hours ago

WINSTED, Conn. - Having marijuana in your house is illegal, but having marijuana images on your house is not, according to town officials.

Five months after Christopher Seekins was arrested and charged with cultivating marijuana in his home, neighbors have complained about the giant marijuana leaves he has spray-painted on the outside of his home on High Street.

Anyone else find that slightly humorous? Look again.

Marijuana. High Street.

*Snort*