Sprouts!

Last night I planted the tomato seeds. I know, I was supposed to wait one more week but I only have so much patience for this stuff.  The good news is that some of the first round seeds have started to sprout.

Like the cilantro...

And oregano...

They are tiny and out of focus, but they are there!

The thyme is one of the vintage 1998 seeds, it seems to be coming along just fine...

It's Sideways Thyme, a special variety. ;)

The jalapenos are thinking about it, they'll pop any day now. Lucy was under foot for most of this, until she figured out that there wouldn't be any handouts. At that point she retired to the couch.

This is why we can't have nice things.

All of the other seeds we are going to plant this year are direct sow, nothing to do now but hope the one's I've started sprout and wait for Spring. This weekend the weather is supposed to be nice so I guess I'll do the things that should have been done weeks ago, like take down the plastic fence around the raised beds and roll up the garden hose. I'll try to fit some of that in between naps. 

Building a Better Vegetable Patch

Last year's garden was best described as meh. We had a lot of tomatoes, but not really enough to can and that was our goal. The peppers never really happened, I guess growing in the shadow of the Great Tomato Jungle wasn't the best idea. The carrots were weird, tiny little guys and the onions gave up long before they even started. We did have good luck with the cucumbers and planted several crops of radishes and beets. Yummm... roasted beets. Shut up, they're good that way.

This year is going to be different. We are going to learn from our mistakes — like planting everything too close to each other, we're not going to do that again — and move forward. I'm even giving the seeds a better start, I think. I started the pepper seeds last night along with a handful of herbs so we'll see how it goes.

This year I'm using Official Seed Starter Mix. Just look at the picture on that bag, they really set the bar high. You're making some pretty big promises there Jiffy.

And I am not using the paper pots. That was a pain in the butt. Maybe things would have been different in plastic trays so I'll give it a go next year. Maybe. I do have a bunch of them left. And yes, I am that crazy hoarder person who is going to save strips of newspaper that have been rolled into pots for a second year.

In lieu of paper pots I have fancy-schmancy trays, picked up for a whopping $7 each by my good buddy and all-around hardware-store-hook-up-dude, Hot Carl. It's these trays I'll be reusing with my hoarded paper pots in 2013. This thing is actually pretty cool for the $7. The instructions say to fill the trays with dirt Seed Starter Mix and then water the soil until it looks wet. This thing held 4 quarts of water. Of course I dumped part of that on the floor so when it was all said and done I ended up with more like 3 quarts of water. So now there's a clean spot on the floor, whatever.

Some of my seeds came from a random zipper bag that my mother found at her house and then abandoned in mine along with a pile of junk mail. BTW, PSU, I no longer live with my parents. Update your stinking files already. Anyway, a few of these seeds may amount to wasted time and peat.

Here's the first batch, all lidded up and ready to sprout. As soon as they do I have a spot for them on a shelf in front of a window.

 

In 2 weeks I'll start the tomato seeds. I know, exciting, right? Just try not to roll your eyes too hard, I hear they'll stick that way.

Where ya gonna put a tree that big?

My mother is a serial forwarder of spam. I suppose with that kind of quantity, it was only a matter of time before she actually hit upon a winner. With the holidays quickly approaching — and just how the f*ck did THAT happen so fast? — I bring you...

Walkin' in a Doggie Wonderland

Dog tags ring, are you listenin'?
In the lane, snow is glistenin'.
It's yellow, NOT white,
I've been there tonight,
Marking up my winter wonderland.

Smell that tree? That's my fragrance.
It's a sign for wandering vagrants;
"Avoid where I pee, it's MY pro-per-ty!
Marked up as my winter wonderland."

In the meadow dad will build a snowman,
Following the classical design.
Then I'll lift my leg and let it go, man!
So all the world will know that it's
Mine-mine-mine!

Straight from me to the fence post,
Flows my natural incense boast;
"Stay off my turf, this small piece of earth,
I marked it as my winter wonderland."

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything

Man, work gets tedious at times!  Last night Mad Dog and myself along with 2 other ladies stayed a couple of hours after work since we are all ridiculously busy.  Mad Dog had the gall to send me an email asking me to help her with some work. 

 Mad Dog:  Hey Ginger, please process this and put it with the other paperwork.

Ginger:  Screw off

Mad Dog:  UP YOURS FOO WONG PA CHU.

Ginger:  I don't shut up, I grow up and when I look at you I throw up.  And then your mama goes around the corner and licks it up!

Mad Dog:  WENDY PEPPERCORN!!!!!!!

Ginger:  You're a dirty pirate hooker.

Mad Dog:  My name is Dean Mother Fucker Jones.  I'm going to be your murder consultant.

Ginger:  Damn you, BUMPUSSES!!!

Mad Dog:  You can't win a marathon without putting some bandaids on your nipples!

Ginger:  Do you want the hot beef injection?

Needless to say, I did do her bidding.  But the next time she asks, I'm kicking her straight in the bologna flaps. 

By the way, here is a picture of Ryan Gosling to distract you from the vision of bologna flaps dancing in your head...

Gobble Gobble Indeed

Gobble, Gobble Motherfucker.

I had the privilege of driving the Kid's car for two days this week while mine was in the shop. One of those days was Monday, the day the boss gave us all the bird. We were each sent home with a 14 pound frozen turkey. I felt the Kid needed to be notified.

Me: There's a turkey in your trunk.

The Kid: It better not be alive. Why is there a large bird in my trunk?

M: Tom's not really large, he's kind of the runt of the litter. He was so cute, dad fell in love.

TK: What the hell! You named it?

M: You named your car.

TK: IT'S A TURKEY. THE UGLIEST BIRD ALIVE.

M: Have you ever met a vulture?

A Shiny New Ride

The Kid has been driving around since the age of 16 —1 year and 2 months — in what can only be described as a lurching piece of shit. It's a '91 Caviler that my well-meaning father purchased for a whopping $300 and then spent another $1200 bringing it up to "code" if you will.

Since that heap first landed in my driveway I have also spent about $600 in miscellaneous repairs, one of which my go-to repair man lovingly referred to as "an oil leak the size of the Exxon Valdez." It's only got about 50K miles on the engine. You might be asking yourself, "why so low?" Well, someone thought it would be a worthwhile endeavor to drop a new engine into a '91 Caviler, that's why.

With winter on the way we were faced with a decision. Buy tires for the POS and let The Kid continue to build character while driving around in an old beater with no heat, or look for something new(er). And so the search began.

A friend of Trophy Husband seemed to have the perfect answer. Low miles, late model and cool as hell, a Mustang convertible. We missed that one by two weeks.

Back to the drawing board, The Kid scoured every inch of Craigs List and Cars.com looking for "the one." He found it again and again. I shot down vehicles with nasty car fax reports, too many miles and some that were cool, but flat out impractical (Trophy Husband's Fiat, I'm looking in your direction).

Last weekend we drove 40 miles to the other side of the city to test drive a promising specimen. The price was right, the miles were low... and I'm pretty sure it's got some sort of transmission problem.

Back to our side of town, we checked on another "one" only to learn that it had been sold the day before. Actually I'm ok with that, this was one of those sketchy car dealers anyway. The sales guy at the big Chevy dealer near the house had a '10 model with 3500 miles on it. Only problem, it was about 5K out of our price range.

We hit another big Chevy dealer to look at a vehicle that The Kid almost forgot about. Miles, good. Price, acceptable. Awesome factor, present and accounted for. And sold? Why yes. To another family for their teenaged son while we were test driving it. Wow, missed that one by mere minutes.* 

At this point The Kid was feeling pretty disillusioned. The sales guy is promising to keep an eye out for us, we're on our way out the door, and the Sales Manager pops over and mentions a Pontiac that they just pulled off the sales floor because the door and one quarter panel had been repainted and the guy who traded it in hadn't reported any accidents (the Carfax was also clean). The dealer was planing to send it to a wholesaler because of the questions about the paint so we took a look. 

The miles are ok, it's a newer model and has every bell and whistle under the sun. We're short on time at this point so I promise to bring Trophy Husband back to check it out on Monday. On Monday morning I called Sales Guy just to be sure that the vehicle was still on the lot and would be there when we arrived after work.

At 5:30 on Monday, in the dark and in the pouring rain, we finally take a close look at the new "one." Sales Guy was nice enough to pull it in so we could examine it under the bright lights of the service bay. You can't tell that the door and quarter panel were painted. The only reason the dealership found it was the tape lines on the door jamb. I drove it and it checked out so we bought it. It took about 30 minutes to figure out we were going to take it and then another 2 hours of credit and financing fun.

Right in the middle of the loan paperwork, The Kid calls me. 

The Kid: Are you at the dealership?

Me: Yep, about this car...

TK: Now what?

Me: I just don't think it's a good idea, I think there's something wrong wit...

TK: Click.

He was pissed. I tried to call back, no answer. I texted, found out he worked until 9. At 8:00 we finished the paperwork and leave the dealership with both cars and head over to where the kid works. We parked the new car right next to the old one and went inside.

Trophy Husband: I need your keys, we've found something else and I might need to trade your car in to get it.

TK: But... well, ok but it's full of my stuff. I have to clean it out.

Me: It's ok, we've got a box.

TK: Ok, just make sure you get everything.

Me: (Tossing new keys) Oh, and you'll need these to get home.

Please allow me to introduce you to Ron Burgundy. Because we name our cars.

I've never seen him so completely pissed off and totally elated at the same time. He actually asked if he could sleep in the car. No. You can't. Now I just have to figure out how we're going to pay the insurance on this thing...

*Interesting note about this car, it's a standard shift. This meant two things. First, I couldn't drive it. Yep, I'm that person who never learned to drive a standard shift. My high school boyfriend tried to teach me but I got pissed off and gave up, coasting home in first gear. And B, Since The Kid is only 17, this dealership wouldn't let him drive — it was about an even split among dealer who would let him and those that wouldn't — so Sales Guy had to do it.

Year of Construction Cont.

Well we finally have the concrete poured.

Hot Carl, Burn Notice, Thing 1 & 2, Sea Bass, Mason and Mason's Bro all worked on getting the 6 yards of concrete poured and smoothed out nice and neat.:





Here is what the finished Patio looks like:



Here is the 1st 1/4 of the retaining wall/flower beds that are going in:



We should have this finished before the snow hits. The upper deck will wait until next spring.

Markhoff Haunted House in Poolsville, MD

I have to start by telling you we had packed for 50 degree weather and an unexpected snow storm hit taking the weather down to 30 degrees with rain and snow. We had to buy hats, gloves, winter coats and boots. It was really muddy in the haunted forest.

We drove an hour to Poolsville, MD. We got there at 9pm and we were number 190 they were on 143 we figured we would have to wait 3 hours to go to the forest there were so many people, but there were bon fires to keep us kind of warm.

After 2 hours one of our friends went up to ask if they were staying open until everyone made it through. They said yes and gave us free tickets to the haunted bus/house and that scared the crap out of me.

The Bus was insane. You entered one bus and walked through for sure one of the dummies lying in the seats would attack you; they did not; however the bus driver jumped on our friend’s back like a monkey and hung on for a while. They are allowed to touch you in MD they aren't allowed to touch you in MO where we are from. Then you SQUEEZE through a tiny opening to the haunted jail to have a clown with teeth jump in your face this is where I started screaming and doing my scared dance (I have a little dance I do when I get scared, it is rather funny). Then you walk through what we call the birthing canal with people’s hands pushing and pulling against you, so it is hard to walk through. Then you go through the prison cells with inmates sticking you with bones and stuff. Then you SQUEEZE through a tiny tube on your hands and knees, I crawled 1/2 through stuck my arms out and said to Hubby pull me up. He said "Think thin pooh" Which got me laughing so hard it was hard to stand up once I was through the tube. Then you had a girl about 14 get up in your grill and howl at you. Freaky!!!! Then you crawled up a 4 foot muddy (because of shoes) hill thing to slide down a slide. Then walk outside the haunted jail on a metal cat walk into another bus where people are grabbing you and then out the door down another slide.
We finally made it to the forest entrance when the chain saw guy started to chase people by us and I yelled I'm out and left. Hubby went out with me and we waited for everyone else.

There was another burn/victim/zombie guy that was really nice about me being freaked out and hung out with us and tickled me until I laughed and I got free Apple Cider.

The bus was fine. I however have a phobia of chain saws that dates back to win I was 6 and my hand got crushed in a tree cutting/stacking accident with my Dad and brother, and that the chainsaw guy was Leather face and I know the true story of leather face since I studied Forensic psychology for a couple years. It freaked me out.

All in All I had a good time even though I didn’t make it through the forest. It was still a blast to hang with friends around a bon fire and drink apple cider and eat hot dogs.

Who Exactly is "Most"?

The Hussies, half of us anyway, are big time Yelpers. We'll run our mouths off about anything, and if  you do it often enough, you just might get noticed. When Yelp notices, you get rewarded with a nifty badge for your profile and entrance into a super secret society called Yelp Elite. The Elite get into parties and events that other people don't get invited to, or sometimes we just get in early. That's what happened this week. Yelp KC had a Halloween event, we all went and those who are special, and not in the "you really should wear a helmet way," got in early.

So, party, gotta have a costume. I'm fairly penniless at the moment so I decided I would seek the Big Box of Halloween Garbage in the basement and see what I could recycle.

I settled on plan A:

Velma, Velma Dinkley.

And plan B:

Paul Stanley. Not because I feel I share his high cheekbones but because he's the easiest to paint and the most effeminate of the Knights in Service of Satan. Also note, this dude is so seriously furry that I thought he was wearing a shirt right up until I placed this image. I like to think that, in spite of my German lineage, I don't have that in common with him either.

Both of these are outfits I have rocked in the past. As Velma, I had Trophy Husband along to be my Shaggy. The Starchild was a solo gig. It's been a good 8 years since I put on the Velma and when I tried it on this week I was shocked at how short that skirt had become while sitting in storage. The only way that's going out into the world is with some tights.

While wandering through my local Target I stumbled upon something I never expected to find, orange tights. Bingo. Velma was on. Just in case I picked up some black hairspray and face paint anyway.

Back at home that night, the nigh of the party so it's not like there's time for trial and error here, I'm putting on the Velma. Magic, slimming cami, check. Orange tights in size One Size Fits Most, uh... wait a minute here! I unwrap the package and hold them up, pretty stretchy both latitudinal and longitudinally. I begin to put them on, no problems, until they abruptly stop about 6 inches before I got them to my waist. Shit. Ok, one more, this time with feeling. I start at my toes, pulling every fiber of spandex just as long as it will go, all the way up and this time, I'm only a couple of inches short. 

I briefly consider cutting out the toes... or maybe the crotch. No, that's just weird. And this is mostly a PG blog. I lay flat on the bed on my back and scissor-kick and wiggle myself the rest of the way into the tights. Orange shirt on, red skirt on (I bought a white one off the clearance rack at Old Navy and dyed it), that should hold. Hair done, make up on, nerd glasses in place, I'm out the door with 5 minutes to spare.

We had a great time at the party. MadDog came as a Demon (though not The Demon), and Boilermaker was an Executioner. Tofurkery's niece painted her face up for Day of the Dead. Ginger came as a Blackhawks Indian and Burn Notice, he was That Guy. 

Can't wait until next year!

Year of Construction Cont.

A Couple of weeks ago. Hot Carl and Burn Notice finished packing down all the gravel and laying the wire grid for the patio.



I brought them lunch:



They finished vibro plating and watering the gravel. Got the grid set and drank some beer.

This week Hot Carl will finish the re bar and Sea Bass and MD will help him pour the concrete. Can't wait. Pictures soon.