Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Someone told me the other night that they couldn't imagine me getting angry or yelling at my kids, which I guess means that I'm successfully passing as a nice person. Good job, me!
I mean, I am generally nice, in that I don't believe in being rude for no reason, and I almost always accept food assignments for funerals and such, and yeah, I try to help children improve their literacy even though they act like jerks, but my gooey center is not a sweet one. I think my gooey center probably tastes like tobacco spittle.
While slogging my way through the twitters I realized that when I scroll using the touchpad my computer makes a barely-audible clicking sound, sort of like ruffling pages in a book, and I am so annoyed by this now that if I were a baby I would be fussing SO MUCH, and my parents would probably have to buy a white noise machine to drown out the sound of the clicks so I could sleep. Except, here's the part I've never figured out: how can anyone sleep with the sound of white noise? "Hey, you know that noise you hear when your radio station isn't coming in very clear? That sound that's so irritating that you'd rather not listen to the radio at all? Let's make a machine that makes that noise all the time, and it will sell like hotcakes!" Babies are crazy is what I'm saying.
I don't think I ever missed the bus when I was in junior high or high school, but I drive Grant and/or Emmett to school at least once a week. This is how you know I'm not doing a very good job on them. At least they're not on drugs, that we know about, but if they could add "can catch the school bus" and "is considerate of others" to their resumes it would be really neat.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Well, friends and neighbors, I have good news and bad today. Bad news first, so we get it over with. I went out to check on the goats this morning and discovered that Hazel had died kidding last night. No babies survived, because it looks like she died pushing the first kid--there were just some hooves poking out and that's it. This is really sad for me, because Hazel was my good little buddy. She loved me from the get-go and followed me around like a dog. She was the calming influence on Sally and Minerva, and if they are manageable at all it is thanks to her good example. She was a great mother, the best of all our goats. Little Hazelnut, you will be missed.
The good news is that I'm watching our neighbors' goats for them while they are on vacation, and Sage, who is Hazel's sister, kidded triplets last night, two girls and a boy. They were all dry and happy when I found them, so I moved them into a separate pen where they'll be away from the trampling of the other goats, and doctored their navels. They're pretty cute.
I bought a Purple Prince crabapple to replace our Shogetsu flowering cherry that died like the weak sauce it is. Fellow Northern Utahns: do not be tempted by the flowering cherry. They are so gorgeous, but they are not built for our climate.
I'm cooking some dinner for a friend who has stage 2 non-alcoholic cirrhosis, and I'm a little freaked out that I might accidentally kill him? I'm going to try French toast with yogurt and fruit and hope for the best.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Last night I was bringing Grant home from his basketball games at a high school that was basically like a palace or maybe an understated casino, and we stopped at Nielsen's Frozen Custard so that he could build some nice garbage muscles. We talked about how you can't outrun a bad diet, and that someday he will pay for the way he eats, as I am paying now, but honestly he doesn't eat garbage that often, so burgers ahoy I guess. Anyway, we ordered a quart of lemon custard (can't outrun a bad diet what?) to take home, which is about an hour away, and without even being asked those lovely people packed it all in ice in a plastic container so it would stay as hard as possible. We usually look to Nielsen's for aloof, sluggish service which we put up with for the custard, but they were really great last night.
We heard pieces of that horrid "Dear Future Husband" song a few times on the radio and I ranted to Grant a little bit about how gross and retrograde it is. When "All About That Bass" first came out everybody was like yay, here is a feminist, body-positive message for the young girls of today, and it took people a minute to even HEAR the misogynist "tell those skinny bitches that" lyric, or how the whole song was STILL about pleasing the male gaze, and now as more of Meghan Trainor's catalog is released we start to get a clearer picture of her platform, which seems to be that she just wants fat girls to be treated like sexy, infantile pets in the same way that skinny girls are. A giant leap for mankind.
I am making over a gallon of yogurt today, because I forgot to cancel our milk order this week. So yes, I have our menu for next week planned, thank you for asking.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
It is so windy outside right now, and I'm just getting angrier and angrier as I sit here listening to it. So I guess you got my attention, wind, good for you. I guess negative attention is still attention, right? Jerk.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Yesterday I was at the dentist's office, which thankfully no longer plays country music in the waiting room, because I complained and told them that it delegitimized their business. I have been friends with the dentist since grade school, so it's okay if I tell him that his music is okay at the feed store or county fair, but not in his office, because it's true. Country music, are you kidding me? I don't care if it's Utah, this is not appropriate.