May 2007 Archives

Bah! What a week. Been in an allergenic fog for several days, but there's light at the end of the haze. Hope it's not an impending meteor or "Love Boat" marathon. That would just not be right.

Being unable to sleep half the time these past nights, my mind has wandered more than usual. Is it not a shame that growing up means losing our innocence? Yet, maybe it's not so bad when we truly aren't born innocent.

For example, take baby noises. From the get-go, babies are devious. They'll pass gas in a silent-but-deadly-way and make you think a new diaper is due, but it's all talk. Nosiree. Babies will wait until it's most embarassing to let 'em rip like beer-bellied bikers after a barbecue.

Baby laughter makes up for it, though. There is almost nothing quite as pure. When the Riblet gets rolling, it's hard to make him stop. The joy is clear in his still-blue eyes. He makes noises only R2D2 can detect, with squeaks and pops that will some day be replaced with a more mature chortle. A shame. Baby laughter is contagious.

The purest noise? It's an action, too. Babies are too little to know they need to back off a little. You might think the purest should be a pooter-tooter, had I not already covered that ground. After all, the wee ones' bums are dipe-clad, the ultimate safety net when things get productive. No, the purest is the sneeze. The Riblet gives it everything he has, not knowing his sinuses will smart after such power blows. Sneezing is still a novelty for him, and sometimes he'll laugh a little after. There's power in them thar headwinds.

You know this if a baby-sneeze has ever sent a bullet-like pacifier into your back. Ouch!

*The title of the post shows I've been delusional this week. I actually said this after some of us at work were talking about how important each member of the team is for our work to be completed.

Now that most of the "reality TV" shows I watch have ended, I can get on with my life.

• The Amazing Race All-Stars? Not real happy about the outcome, but whatev.
• Survivor? Earl seemed like the least-sleazy and manipulative, so a million to him.
• Dancing with the Stars? Yeah, I watch it. The gold medal speed skater dude and his miniature Barbie® won, and deserved it.
• America's Next Top Model? None of the girls on there ever really look human, so the gal who won was OK I guess.

Now it's time for not-as-good-but-there's-nothing-else-to-watch-while-I-woof-down-dinner-after-a-long-day shows. Not sure I'll give Pirate Master a try because it looks to much like Survivor on a Pirate Ship (the purposeful premise, I'm sure). What's with all the piratey-stuff anyway? Even the Veggie Tales people are coming out with a second full-length movie about The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything (should a kids' movie be rated Arrrrrrr?). We'll probably stick with So You Think You Can Dance.

All these shows are pure escapism, but I'm most happy to live in my own little world.

We went to the park Sunday afternoon to take senior/graduation photos for a friend. Afterward, we plopped the Cutlet and Riblet down together for some pics, too. This is one of my favorites.

In between the "work" and "play" portion of our outing, though, the Cutlet was swinging around his toy camera, let go of it and ... of course ... it landed into the creek. Thanks to the extra-tall high school senior we had with us, it was fished out with great effort. The moral to the story is, don't be up a creek without a paddle, or don't drop a toy camera in a creek without a tall dude to help you get it back.

I rode a 50-mile bicycle ride this past Saturday, another notch on my way to 100 miles in late August. The ride started at the Texas Motor Speedway, with us lined up on Pit Road and then unleashed on the 1.5-mile oval where race cars usually tread.

I have been to the speedway for five car events, including the first major NASCAR race, three others and also an INDY race. During that inaugural event, I had press passes that let me hang in the pit area, garages and RV-infested infield. I paid twice to sit in the stands, on either side of the track, and had a free pass to a luxury suite the final time. For the INDY race, the Petite Filet scored tickets that led us up to a luxury condo owned by one of the vendors she used to work with.

Good news: We bought a new dishwasher yesterday!
Bad news: It's not in stock and won't arrive at our house until the first week of June. That means a coupla more weeks of a messy kitchen and pruny hands. Actually, I'm sure the kitchen will continue to be messy most of the time even after we get it.

Good news: We've had a lot of rain the past few months, and everything is green or blooming.
Bad news: Already living in Allergen Central, everything's blooming. Plus, it's giving a boost to the mosquito population. If we don't douse ourselves in Deet before venturing out we end up with tons of love bites.

The smell of insect repellent, so often mixed with sunscreen, reminds me of summers past. It's a comforting smell, oddly enough, but I'm not a big fan of wearing chemicals like that. However, after a mosquito put the Petite Filet's grandpa in the hospital a couple of summers ago (encephalitis, or something spelled similar), we are religious about it. We've got Off! wipes for the kiddies, too. Eau de mosquito for everyone!

Below is an entry about the little suckers republished from my blog when it was on Blogspot. It was first posted on June 26, 2003 ...

You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

This holds true for love, a good job and even a crummy built-in dishwasher. Oh, dishwasher! Why did you forsake us in our time of need? Haven't you seen our checkbook? How our bills pile up not far from you, on the edge of the kitchen counter? And yet, you decided to die on us. Didn't you love us? Did we not wipe your exterior down with a damp, somewhat moldy rag that had the faint scent of baby formula mixed with pancake syrup? Did we not fill that little dispenser with Jet Dry® whenever we remembered to? Didn't we usually use pemium dishwasher soap to make your job easier? Why, dishwasher, oh dishwasher!

I made the mistake of telling the Petite Filet that, "Dishwashers are a luxury item. We can do without it!" She stated her case otherwise, and I said something along the lines of, "I'll do all the dishes, then."

How long did that plan last, dear hearts? Not even one night. I'm ready to charge up our Home Depot card (paid off until now) and move on with life. I must have hit my head on something, because for a split second the idea of ripping out the original base cabinet, replacing it, the backsplash and the sink seemed really like a good idea. Why not? Our galley-style kitchen opens to the living room, so it should look fresh and sturdy (not like a vintage-1960s country-kitchen nightmare).

Then my senses returned. Instead, we'll go with a dishwasher that is as efficient, reliable, hard-scrubbing, quiet and pretty as possible. Any suggestions?

The worst has to be that when any appliance like this dies, it's when you've loaded it with dirty dishes (or laundry, etc.). Not only do we have daily dishes to keep up with, we've got to empty the thing so it can be replaced.

On a related note, the Petite Filet is doing a modified South Beach Diet in order to jumpstart her post-baby weight loss. I'm not sure why she gave me the double-stink-eyes when I settled down into my chair with a hot, steaming bowl of mashed potatoes, followed by a side of bread and an apple. I'm so supportive.

It was Bath Time at Casa del T-bone ...

To all the moms out there, and you know who you are, have an extra-special weekend. For everyone with a mom, don't forget that Sunday is Mother's Day. Pick up the phone, send a card, say it with flowers or take yo mutha to lunch, if you are so inclined. For those who have lost their mothers, I am sorry. I hope you've got many wonderful memories to reflect on.

I've got another bicycle ride set for May 19, this time a 50-miler. It starts by circling the track at the Texas Motor Speedway, which should make for an exhilerating start. Would be even more exciting if a car race was going on at the same time, but thankfully, that's not the case. Part of this weekend will be spent on putting in some training miles, that is, if it's not raining too terribly hard. Lightning will keep me inside.

Happy weekend!

I used to wonder about people who said they were so busy they couldn't respond to correspondence, mow their own lawn or blog. It's all a matter of priorities, after all, and with at least 24 hours in each day, we do what we feel like.

Of course, my correspondence is awaiting replies (including a few bills), the grass is knee-high to a point guard and the blog? Yeah, it's starting to mold. Another quite graphic example of how we've shirked our housekeeping responsibilities at Casa del T-bone is that we've neglected to change our bed sheets in, well, I don't remember how long.

Our sheets are so dirty that they could rip themselves off the bed, hitchhike to the nearest truck stop, prostitute themselves for bus fair and end up hitched to a seedy sofa-slipcover in Vegas at an Elvis-on-Velvet-themed wedding chapel. All of this would happen without guilt because the sheets are really really dirty. It's a problem I hope to rectify when I get home, but even "rectify" sounds filthy.

Here are a few things that need doing at the homestead:

Hey! I've finally passed 6,000 comments on this site. I must thank you, wonderful readers, for not only stopping by, but having such nice and thoughtful things to say. For those of you who are real people - and you know who you are - you are the greatest. I haven't been living up to my side of the bargain by providing much content (as if I ever did), but thanks anyway!

Thanks also to spambots test@test.com, for the wonderful (and identical) "comments" that list some strange Web link that I don't dare click on. And where would I be without xxxjkjkddwwrqw@dfdjkdfjl.com? You rocked my comments with a bunch of random things and fake compliments, such as the classic, "Great site!" I really am thankful for your concern for the size of my breasts, the length of my whoozit, how much I'm paying for my mortgage and the generousness of foreign royalty who think of me when they need to stash gamillions from threatening warlords. Yay!

Just think ... if I posted more regularly, I would have a lot more entries, too, which would attract more spam comments. Oh, the cycle of bloglife.