Things we want to know....

If it's August in St. Louis, why are the tomatoes in the grocery from Holland? If it's May in St. Louis, why are they from Canada?

If you are a tattoo artist, why would you advertise your business with a hastily spray-painted plywood sign? Because nothing says "Trust me to inject a foreign substance into your skin in an artistic fashion!" more than a hastily spray-painted plywood sign.

Does this inspire confidence? I think not. And don't get me started on the extraneous apostrophe........



Why do Boy, Girl and Spouse insist on playing unending rounds of Super Smash Bros Brawl (or whatever), when all it does is make them all bitchy?

*Girl side note* Because no matter how it may seem, we do enjoy it. It's like watching sports or doing the Sudoku. You know it's going to piss you off sometimes, but you still like doing it.

*Mom* I hate Sudoku. Especially the Saturday ones. And Friday. And sometimes even Thursday. But I totally pwn the rest of the week.

I watched a sixth grader google Google. I don't know what I want to know about this.

If you're going to spend extra money on vanity plates, why would you choose one that simply tells the world what you're driving? When I'm following a Mustang, I do not need the license plate to inform me that I am indeed following a Mustang. I can actually tell this by the word Mustang prominently displayed on the rear end of the car. (Not to mention the distinctive styling) Only slightly less annoying is the plate that tells you to whom the car belongs. My Kia, for example. Ummm....thanks. I thought maybe you stole that Kia. I appreciate you clearing that up for me. HOWEVER, it is acceptable to use vanity plates in this manner if your vehicle is vintage and you work the year of the car into the plate. I can also live with it if you have a nickname for your car (the common ones like 'stang or pony are okay....why am I struggling with thinking up examples that do not apply to Mustangs? I don't know. Maybe because Mustangs are cool.) My favorite is the silver SUV I see around town... HI O AG. Cute.

Why is vanilla Coke only available in the summer, while citrus Cokes are only available in the winter?

Today's newspaper had an article that foretold large budgets cuts for higher education, primarily from financial aid. Right next to this article was another telling how the state wants to make school districts more accountable by adding EVEN MORE standardized tests AND by tracking how many students graduate from college in a certain number of years. So, to sum up....state has less money....give less to colleges.....make schools spend more on tests....less instructional time....state spends more on tracking kids.....who can't afford college.....blame schools! I want to know if these departments even know the other exists!?!

Why is my dog so dumb?

A lot of people I know amuse themselves by discussing whether it is possible to whelmed as opposed to over or underwhelmed. We want to know if it's possible to be......

Vincible!

Corrigible!

Luctant! (the first time you resist? After that you're reluctant.)

Hearsing! (after that you are rehearsing. Thanks, Bugs Bunny.)

Calcitrant!

sigh...these are getting to be a bit much....I should just post.

A Note From KDHD

So I haven't been very good at posting lately...

I'm gonna go ahead and say it's because I haven't been on ADHD medication for three and a half weeks now, which is the longest I've gone without since third grade.

I've had to quit taking them because my heart's been freaking out lately, averaging at 120 bpm while resting. Since I took Adderall, my doctor was pretty confident it was involved somehow, so he forbade me from taking it ever again.

This is a problem.

See, I like taking my meds. They let me do things I can't normally focus long enough to do, like exercise, not eat so damn much, only sleep for seven to eight hours, sit through an entire episode of something other than Game of Thrones, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or Arrested Development, remember to call my doctor about getting new meds or about my heart test results, or you know, write a reasonable blog post.

I need to call my doctor, but the problem with that is, I'm afraid of the phone. Not in a crazy person kind of way, but I really really really really really really really really really hate calling people on the phone, especially businesses.

I always feel like an idiot, and I'm completely incapable of regular human speech once there's actually a person on the line. I feel like I owe whoever I'm calling an apology after the call is over for my inability to function when a phone is in my hand.

I wish I could just text the doctor's office.

So usually, I procrastinate until I forget, and then it all works out. Unfortunately, that's not going to work this time around, seeing as it's about my heart and head, and both are pretty important.

Anyway, I know my last post was an apology ramble too, and I am actually working on a real post, so all I can say is, I'm sorry for this post. Better ones to come.

I Don't Even

I don't know what to write. I'm making it look like I'm blogging, but I'm really not. Not at all.

There is no point to what I'm doing. I'm probably not going to even post this. I'm sitting here with my family and a family friend, listening to them reminisce about college years, and weddings, and all that jazz.

It's all very fascinating.

I feel bad, because I haven't been doing anything lately, but I still can't come up with anything to blog about. All I can come up with is a blog post about how I can't write a blog post.

This is becoming a bit of a problem.

But I know I will get over this. Especially once school starts again in like...a month or three. I dunno when fall semester starts, and I don't feel like looking it up but I've been out for a month, so that's bound to mean something.

*Mom- I really want to add to this but I'm at a loss.

Glad you chimed in there, Mom.

There's a cupcake container on the table with four little cupcakes left, and it was full when the night started. We've turned into cupcake-eating monsters as of late. If there's ever a noticeable lack of cupcake in the house, some magical vortex seems to open up immediately, depositing a new batch of delicious, sugary pastries into our house. That, or my mom goes to the store and buys them.

I'm beginning to regret not wearing pants again.

This time it's a combination of bugs and cold, rather than just bugs, but this time, I'm not getting up to get them. I'll stick with my shorts, thanks.

Anyway, I said absolutely nothing in this post, but I felt the need to actually post something, so here it is. Sorry about this. Ignore it, really. I'll have something substantial soon.

Debbie, I Imagine?

I dearly remember my childhood friends Debbie, Donna and Sewing Machine. I do not recall the circumstances that caused Sewing Machine to be encumbered with such a name, but being a sweet and accepting child, I rolled with it. I had no problem with the fact the Sewing Machine's name was not to be shortened or nicknamed in any way. She was Sewing Machine and that was okay. I loved playing with my little friends. We used to go to my grandparents' farm and we had a blast. They had a swingset there and a real live outhouse (why was THAT exciting? Shrug.) and (I know it doesn't really sound like a toy) this huge, I don't know, gas tank, I guess. Here,

So, we used to play on this thing all the time. If Debbie, Donna and Sewing Machine weren't with me, my brother would play too, sometimes. We used to have contests to see who could jump onto the tank without using hands. We would come up with these routines like it was the Olympics or something and the gas tank was an apparatus. To be clear, my brother DID NOT participate in the Olympic thing. That was me, Debbie, Donna and Sewing Machine. I seriously thought if the Olympic officials could see our routines, they would immediately include Gas Tank Gymnastics in the games and I would be the very first gold medalist. Even as I flipped and twirled on that honkin' gas tank, I never worried that it was dangerous. No one blew up, so we had that going for us.

*Girl* Which was nice.

Once in a while, one of us (usually me) would lose our grip and fall on our head. It wasn't far, though. There were no lasting effects.

My grandparents had this big barn with a big haymow on both sides, way high. In between was a rope. I don't know what the rope was for. It could not have been put there for grandchildren to try to kill themselves. But that's what we did with it. You could climb up and swing from the haymow and it was AWESOME! And none of us died from it. Yay. I think Debbie, Donna and Sewing Machine were a little scared of the rope. They never came into the barn with me. My cousins and I would play in there all day (or until our parents found us....yikes), but not Debbie, Donna or Sewing Machine. Scaredy cats.

I guess it's a little ironic how Sewing Machine died, considering the extreme level of caution she demonstrated at Grandpa and Grandma's. Even though I swang on the barn-rope, there were things I knew better than to go near. My Mom's sewing machine, for instance.

I used to watch her sew and, Oh My Gosh, was that thing scary! Her hands would get so close to the foot thingie and I was terrified that she would get her hand caught and get sewed to death.

So imagine my sorrow when my dear friend Sewing Machine was killed in a Horrible Sewing Machine Accident! I don't know exactly what happened. No one ever told me the gory details, but I tell you, my imagination went into overdrive. I pictured poor Sewing Machine, stitches up and down her limbs, droplets of blood staining the very thread that both killed her and held her together.

Luckily the next day, Sewing Machine was back! She came back to life! What joy! What thrill! No vicious sewing machine could beat my sweet Sewing Machine! YAY!!!! Debbie, Donna, Sewing Machine and I played together for a few years after that horrid incident. Every once in a while, Sewing Machine would die yet another hideous death, but she would always come back the next day, or at least the next week. Some accidents were worse than others. I think Sewing Machine's deaths were far more gruesome if my Mom had recently been mending on her heavy-duty machine rather than making doll clothes on her normal machine. Buuut I can't be sure.

Dog Sitting

Two days ago, I got a dog stuck in my hair.

Maybe some background will help.

Since last Friday, I've been dog-sitting for my next-door neighbor. His dog is a one-year-old chocolate lab named Daisy. Perhaps you can see where this is going.

We're playing right now, and mid-joyous jump on the squeaky ball, she remembered she needed to pee, and did so. Almost on the ball. Sometimes she gets up before she's finished and pees as she walks. Yesterday she peed on her leash.

*Mom * Last week she peed in the street, presumably from the sheer joy of seeing me as she went on her thrice daily walk. Dogs ALWAYS have to pee when they see me. You were probably too young to remember, but when we lived in Iowa we had this neighbor who had a weiner dog named Phoenix and whenever she saw us, she was scared and tucked her tail between her legs, the she peed in terror , then she realized, "I know these people and I just remembered that I LOVE THEM", then she would wag her tail in glee and flick pee all over everyone. Of course this was hilarious to her owners, but to us....not so much.

I think that's a rite of passage among weiner dogs. You're not really a weiner dog until you've tail-pee-flicked someone.

My legs are itchy from bugs, but if I leave to put sweatpants on, Daisy'll wake up the neighborhood. Oh well, moving on.

Because Daisy is a one-year-old lab, we have to lock her in the laundry room when we're not at her house.



I'm bleeding now. I should probably go put on some pants. I'm covered in bug bites, and- THERE IS ONE ON MY EAR. Why does that happen? My ear? Really? Anyway...

She's getting pushy about this whole 'play' thing. Nudging against my computer and squeaking the toy far too often. Every time she touches something with her face, she covers it in a fresh coat of slobber. My computer is no exception.

Where was I going with this? Right. Hair.

So, I feel bad if I leave her locked up for too long, but it gets too hot too quickly for her to hang out outside with us for any length of time, so I'll go over to her house and watch a movie in the basement, keeping an eye on her tearing around the house.

And I'm not being soft. I'll come over to let her out, and she'll have rearranged the enclosure she'd been kept in, covering the drain next to her cage, and extending the cage into the next room, all the while destroying everything she can reach.















It's become an adventure to go over there in the afternoon.

She's already destroyed two rolls of paper towels that my neighbor had left for me in the case of any accidents. This dog managed to destroy a Kong squeaky thing. That's where the ball we're currently playing with came from. Also, it used to be my dog Bailey's toy, but she doesn't care anymore.

Two nights ago, Mom and I were hanging out in Daisy's basement, trying to wear her out before putting her to sleep. I was making weird noises and faces, and just kind of messing with her, and of course she was going insane because of it. In a fun, puppy-like way.

Then I made the mistake of messing with her ears a little.

She veered right when I did this, connecting our heads with way more force than I would've liked. After switching to tackling me, it became apparent that something was wrong. My hair hurt, and Daisy couldn't get off of me. I was laughing too hard to really communicate my distress, but I eventually got my mom to understand that something was wrong and it had something to do with my head.

In the throes of playing with Daisy, my hair had gotten caught in her pincher collar, which of course she doesn't understand. When she realized she couldn't get away from me, the only logical step for her to take was to try harder. Which she did.

It took both of us to get Daisy calm, and my hair free, but we eventually did without ripping it out of my skull.

Also, there's a bee flying around my head, a spider somewhere on my chair, and a mosquito just landed on my finger. I'm so done with Summer nature, and it's only June 9th. dddddddddddddddd. <= That was Daisy. Now I have to clean her slobber off my keyboard.

Normal conversation in our house...UPDATE...Wooo!

Boy-How hungry are you? We're cooking for you tonight-when do you want to eat?

Mom-It's not so much the eating...but I AM planning on doing some drinkin'.

Boy- Well, you can drink any time, so....

Mom-But I want to stay awake until after eight o'clock.

Boy- Huh.

Mom-Maybe I'll nap first.

Boy-You are such an old lady.



At Costco (MY happiest place on earth)--looking at Disney movies (whose $6 rebate expired the day before but whatever, it's Costco and I LOVE it there)

Mom- Well, you could get it if you want to.....you can dance if you want to.

Girl- Yes, and you can leave your friends behind. We've had this discussion before.

Lady near us- (odd look....not quite a glare yet not really humored. Probably trying to decide whether or not to be amused by us....maybe wondering why that sounded familiar...who knows?)

And yes, I'm aware that this particular conversation did not take place in our house. You know what I meant. (eye roll)
*Girl* To be fair, we have had it in our house before as well. Several times.


Mom- It's 9-Oh shit!

Girl- 9 o'shit? I don't think that's a real time, Mom.


Girl- What are you even like drunk? Have I ever seen you drunk?

Mom- I dunno. I got pretty hammered the last time I had this *gestures to wine in front of her*.

Girl- What, you mean like, three days ago?

Mom- I guess...Not really hammered. I don't really get hammered. Just tipsy. Goofy.

Girl- But you're goofy a lot of the time.

Mom- I drink more than you know.

Girl- ...

Mom- That was funny. Add that to the blog.

Girl- Okay. *gets on blog*

Mom- wait...what did we say?

Girl- *facepalm*

Mom- I have Ellie Pooh Paper!




*Ellie Pooh paper is paper made from Sri Lankan elephant poop. It is sterilized and not gross and you should immediately go to their website and buy some. Added bonus--you can write notes to people you don't like and secretly snicker that you are giving them elephant crap WHILE AT THE SAME TIME helping the environment and the people of Sri Lanka!!! AAAAhahahahaha!!!!

Website....not so visible on the card.... www.mrelliepooh.com
Get yours today!!!

Sriracha peas

The second ingredient is sugar.





Questions? Go here.

Absurdly Specific Nerdgasm

I've been told by many people that I'm a bit of a master of quoting. Not necessarily well-known quotes, but the ones I know, man, I know them. And I'll say them without thinking, "hey, maybe this is too obscure for other people who have lives and normal-person brains and whatever," but no. No, I'll come right out with a, "He killed me with a sword. How weird is that?" (Mr. Universe, Serenity) or, "I'm not the monster here, you are!" (Belle, Beauty and the Beast) and the most random of them all, "Stop lying! You killed my father and comrades, you coveted the stupid jewel, you're responsible for everything!" (Sango, InuYasha)

It's amazing how often those three actually come up in conversation with me.

You'd think they wouldn't apply, but damn it, I make them apply. It's annoying, I know. Especially to me, but I just can't stop myself, and it's becoming a bit of a problem now that I'm in college and around all these new people who have even less idea of what I'm talking about.

Usually the quotes resonate with me for some weird reason or another. Like the rhythm, or whatever it is. Regardless, it sticks with me forever, often without my knowledge. It'll just sit there in the back of my mind, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Like, for someone to call me a bitch, then I can bust out my Easy A chops with ease. "You know, you call me bitch a lot..." and so forth.

*Mom* Veronica-Why are you such a megabitch? Heather Duke-Because I can be. (Heathers)

Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast?

I do the same with other references. I'll have a run of like, three or five things that all remind me of each other, but have absolutely nothing to do with any of the others. Right now it's Tales of Symphonia, Full Metal Alchemist (and Brotherhood), Avatar: the Last Airbender, and Game of Thrones.

If you know these well, you know what I'm talking about, possibly, and it's actually pretty cool to make the connections. It isn't as cool, however, to make them out loud while watching Brotherhood on my computer and sitting in the room of a guy who isn't as far as me in either Brotherhood or Tales, and hasn't read Game of Thrones. I haven't given out anything but hints so far, but I still feel sorta bad.

And stupid. I feel really stupid every time this happens. I always wish I knew someone who had my tastes exactly, as well as my amount of free time (which I really don't have, but I pretend I do, and then pull all-nighters writing short stories and rhetoric papers). So far, a couple of people come close, but there's always one key that they're missing. Usually it's Tales or any of the animes, so I guess I can understand that.

Ooh! I just realized that Harry Potter fits into Fullmetal Alchemist, too! I swear, Brotherhood is like a crossroads for all of my loves in this world.

Oh, and so does InuYasha. This is just getting weird.

And Star Wars. And Lord of the Rings, but mostly only in a musical part in Brotherhood.
I suppose I should stop now, while I have seven things. So many things.

Hey! Having seven things fits in with both FMAs and Harry Potter. Perfect stopping point.

In case you possibly care, here's a flow chart I made to illustrate the various connections in my brain between the shows. No spoilers, just lines.

Is that a flow chart? Probably not, but it's a thing, so roll with it.

And all these connections? Not exclusive to shows and books and movies and video games. No, whenever I go into obsessive-mode, I'll hear a song that I've known for years and I'll realize, "holy crap, this fits _________ so well, it's like it was written by the author for the character!" and then I want to tell someone, but they either wouldn't get it, or just don't care.

If you actually do care though, right now it's All You Wanted by Michelle Branch, and it fits Riza Hawkeye's perspective of Roy Mustang in the manga and in Brotherhood. Or at least, an interpretation of it. Check it out or not. You know, if that's your thing.

Also, I'm a nerd and I do usually keep these things to myself. But, this is a blog and what else are they for?

The ol' hometown(s)

So, I've been a bit lax in posting. I spent most of last week at my parents' house in rural Iowa. My brother was there too--hanging out betwixt living in Idaho* and St. Thomas (moving from Idaho to St. Thomas.....a logical next step, if you ask me. But you didn't.) So, while I wasn't exactly off-grid, I didn't really have time to write anything-but I did have time to photograph stuff! And now I can work on figuring out how to get them from my phone to here. Yay for learning!

I grew up on a farm in Iowa near a very small town. I went to high school in a slightly less small town about ten miles from aforementioned small town. So I kind of have two hometowns.

You have no way of knowing this but I just paused to go in the house and wash sticky off my hands from eating sriracha peas. They have sriracha and garlic on them and they are spicy and delicious and generally awesome but what I want to know is, why the sticky? Maybe I should read the ingredients.

Anyway, I can't say that I learned anything on my trip, you know, gained great insights into life and whatnot but there were things that I had forgotten. And reminders are nice once in a while.

I don't know why I was surprised to see that my hometown (not H.S. hometown) has street signs. Of course there are street signs. There are streets, aren't there? Ergo.....street signs. Duh. The thing is (and I know this from both trick-or-treating AND from marching in parades in this town) there is no way there are more than ten intersections........(this just in...Google Earth confirms that this town has nine intersections....nine. That is all.) Here's one....

and another.....



....still don't believe me? Suck on this!.....




...but really, why wouldn't you believe me? Why would I lie? And may I say right here? that marching in a small town 4th of July parade is BRUTAL, because they don't want to leave anyone out and that damn parade somehow manages to go down EVERY street in the town so by the end of it all, you've marched about three miles in a town that's only five blocks long and it started at noon and that was back when high school marching bands didn't have nice summer uniforms of polo shirts and khaki shorts, noooooo we donned the sweaty stench of wool uniforms and were hallucinating about Shaun Cassidy in our dehydrated delirium and dropping like flies and just wishing for the angel of death to just come and TAKE US ALREADY!

There was usually a free soda at the end, though.


This is a very Irish community. Folks just fly that Irish flag all over the place....like this......




Notice that the Irish flag appears to be flying higher than the Iowa flag. Hmmmm. I don't know if that is a thing or what. But it is sending a very clear message to me. I think it's okay in this area to fly the green, white and orange no matter what the extent of Irish blood coursing through your veins. I, for example, have an Irish maiden name, the result of a long line of Irish men marrying German women. There is almost no Irish in me whatsoever, and I am certain that there are many, many others similarly afflicted. But in that area, if you've any Irish, you're Irish enough. I can't say that I've ever noticed a German flag there...or anywhere really. I see the German sticker on cars. Never on flags. Weird.

A visit to the local cemetery cemented the notion of the area's heritage. Yes, I know it's a very Irish community. Did I not mention that earlier? But, the cemetery, wow.

It needs to be mentioned right here and now that I am one of those weirdos who loves cemeteries, as long as I'm not there to visit someone specific. When my Dad jumped to accompany me, I knew where I got it. More background.....my Dad and some other guys from the church worked their everlovin' asses off fixing up the cemetery a few years ago. It had become a bit of a mess (apparently) but now it's really beautiful. Many of the stones date back to the 1800's and they all tell where the person was born. Counties Kerry, Cork and Clare are the big winners here.























The last names are a who's who of my first communion class....yes the families are mostly still here. Noonan. Curoe. Mahoney. Molony.

Wow.


And the oddest thing....I know the life expectancy was significantly lower in those days, but there were a LOT of people who lived into their 80's. Actually a pattern evolved (maybe it was my imagination) but it looked to me like people died when they were under five, or around 20, 40, 60 or 80. So once you got past, oh, 23...you could relax for about twelve years. Then be careful for say....six years or so, then relax.....etc.


Seriously...it's interesting and so heartbreaking in the old part of a cemetery. So many children....

(reflective and respectful pause)

(deep sigh)


Okay, here's where I went to high school.



I graduated in 1982. In 1992 I went to my ten year reunion. The bartender described it as "100 people talking and nobody listening." Guilty.




In 2008, I skipped my 25th reunion.The reason I didn't go had nothing to do with math. I kind of went to high school with a whole bunch of assholes. But I think a lot of them only seemed like assholes at the time because well, you know, they were just trying to figure stuff out. So it turns out that I was probably an asshole to some people and some others probably thought I was but I was also just trying to figure stuff out. But there doesn't seem to be much point in sorting out who was and was not an asshole....so I didn't go.



(this is a sunset at my parent's house...it was more beautiful than the picture shows....trust me)


Go forward...... Move ahead.**

* For those of you who do not live in the midwest and/or did not pay attention in school ever, Iowa and Idaho are NOT the same place. They are also not Ohio. Thank you.

**Apologies to Devo.