Ennui

Which is French for “I don’t currently give a shit”.. Yep that’s the word for it. Here of late I have a severe case of it. Not depressed, life isn’t awful- I just seem to be totally lacking in anything that resembles motivation, which is highly unusual for me. Here of late I look in the mirror and have no earthly idea who that woman is staring back at me. I find this most unsettling. Hell, I haven’t even bought a pair of shoes in four months, and that my friends is a record.

I had hoped it was just the dog days of summer.. not so much. I generally thrive in the heat. I wonder if I didn’t lose a bit of my identity when I ended up doing the part time working at home thing. There’s enough crap to do around the house that I’ve not had time to deal with to keep me occupied for a year easily. Getting my ass motivated to deal with it is another story. Lost my mojo somewhere along the line. Now this is not to say I’m laying about the house in a robe all day sighing deeply. Nope, get up and shower, do all the Mom stuff, house isn’t a wreck by any means.. get the part time stuff dealt with in a timely fashion- life does go on with some order more or less.

It just seems the old me isn’t really here at the moment. Perhaps she just needed a vacation. Perhaps I ought to just go with it for the moment. Or maybe I just have a case of the lazy right now. See, I can justify my way out of damn near anything. Short of working for the Shrub, I wonder if this qualifies as a job skill of some sort? Perhaps I ought to note it on my currently ignored by the hiring entities resume.

Hell- I just need to get out of the house more I expect and get over myself real quick.

Farm Subsidies-

Think about it- and raise some hell.. the farm subsidy programs have had nothing but an adverse impact on small farmers since just post depression.. Personally I rather like knowing the person that grows my food.. And I don't like seeing decent people get screwed. So go and let those asshats know that the individual farmer with a community and a family and a sense of accountability to the earth do matter.. Perhaps I'm biased, coming from farm people..

Go make with the support for the real american farmer, who is not a part of the big agribusiness. Personally I like knowing there's a family down the road with a working farm that can tend the land and not get sucked into the ArcherDanielsMidland scary ass form of what passes for food.

Farm subsidies these days help only big agribusiness, not the individual. So take a moment to let congress know it's a bad piece of legislation that needs to be reformed. Like many good ideas, it got perverted along the way by pork barrel politics and needs serious and lasting reforms.


I'm with dear old Mr. Earl on this one y'all..

The Prognosis..

Well, it’s a mixed diagnosis.. Hauled my happy ass out to the hardware store and fetched a new breaker. Wired the sucker back in, yay! We have a cook top back, now this is progress. Since I have a light again, I take a closer look at the broiler element. Humm, sucker burned completely through. Like 4 or more inches of element no longer there.. dang! Well that would indeed explain the blinding mini explosion and the subsequent fried breaker. Mr. Appliance fixit dude was very impressed, he’s never encountered a vaporized part. Lucky me. He assures me that while we’re waiting on the new element it’s OK to cut the oven on as long as I avoid the broiler. Umm, nah, I think not. Well it’s all good- I have the grill and the stove top I’ll manage. BBQ shrimp and grits, here we come! Hey Tater- we’re having vinegar and pepper cukes too, come on over!

You have to understand, the range to me is rather like Cowbell’s camera. Not the Viking six burner mother I covet- nay, lust after- but it makes me happy. It’s the only outlet for a woman with the artistic talent of a gerbil.. And as 1951 as it may sound, I rather enjoy feeding the family ( and the extra kids that always seem to be around here) something that never saw a box as it’s beginning.. My form of therapy, as it were.

My Idiot child-

Meaning my husband..

Love him dearly, 27 years together means something these days I think, I do love him dearly. But some days I could happily wrap my hands around his neck. Not a stupid person at all- has a doctorate, can solve quadric equations half drunk on a cocktail napkin with a pencil.. is highly regarded in his field and has all kinds of fancy people with big titles calling for his advice- Couldn't find his ass with both hands if he tried. I have to check him before he leaves the house. For real.

Love him, I swear I do. Case in point. My day today( other than the very late in the day oven debacle) get him packed for a business trip. Do my usual check list of clothes, meds, computer, cellphone, paperwork and such- check, all good. Get a panicked call from the airport.. "Where's my driver's license?" Umm.. how the hell would I know? Chill out dear- do you have your Federal Employee ID? "Yes" Fine, get your ass on the plane and we'll figure the rest out. "I have to get a rental car!" Repeat, you're getting on a plane- I can only do so much dear.

Call the DMV- 20 minutes ON HOLD (those people whose blogs I hovered on today- I have a valid excuse) get a human- " Hello this is Sara, we are having phone problems and I can't hear anything, please call back." CLICK. WTF??????

Breathe very deeply, dial again. 34 fucking minutes on hold.. but do get an actual person that WILL speak to me. Privacy issues, can't get shit accomplished- but do get some guidance. Now one would not assume this is the first time a person has lost their license, so I presume there is some sort of standard procedure to notify the rental car people of one's status. Hell no.. depends on the rental company. Some will take a verification faxed from the state.. Alamo- not gonna happen.

Well, that's a waste of a day.. tear up the house trying to find the damn thing, hang on infinity hold for a couple of hours, tear up the house again.. field calls from my lost boy.. tear up the damn house again..

Let it suffice to say this is not a first.. Example- heading for a conference in Virgina Beach. I get a call "I think I'm lost- I'm in Elizabeth City". What????? Now that takes some REAL talent..

I swear, every time he walks out that door into the real world alone I have fear.. I love you baby, but lord you worry the hell out of me. Y'all see him coming- be sweet and help him navigate the real world and be kind to his helpless ass- please?

The Magical Mystery Tour- Redux..

The reverse trip.. Travels with the boy are kind of like “Alice, Let’s Eat” with a boy and his Mom instead, and lacking the writing talent part..

The dynamic of the drop off and the pick up are different due to timing.. dropping the lad off on a Sunday between 2 and 4? This affords some flexibility for those coming from the top of the state, thus it is tiring, but do-able for a round trip same day. The pick up deal, not so much. Pick up between 8 and 11 on a Saturday morning? Sorry, not getting my happy ass up at 3AM- not gonna happen. So the Mom goes down Friday, sees the nephew and grand nephews (Oy- I feel so old) chows some blue crabs and heads over the Bay Bridge Tunnel to get the Hurricane bright and early Saturday morning.

The drill goes- haul it up the eastern shore, arrive at camp. Pull up to the cabin. Get a death defying hug from the little dude- it’s sweet that he really could care less if the guys see him jump up and give Mom the death hug. Check 3 times for the stuff he swears is all in the bag - not.. Check out with the counselors. Now little dude generally wishes to introduce the Mom to the semi adults that have been in charge of him, and most of the short people he’s been hanging out with. This is fine, he’s a very social creature, I’m accustomed to this. Myself, I want to verify that he hasn’t behaved like he was raised by wolves.. and to make sure he had a HUGE amount of fun. Now, selfishly I will admit that this camp seems to attract incredibly hot counselors from all over the world. Spending ten minutes inquiring as to the camp experience from an amazingly hot Brazilian guy isn’t torture.. yeah, so sue me.

Then we hit the road..

Mom-

Yes?

Is the Clam Shack open?

Well Buddy it’s 9:00, I don’t know.

Can you have a couple of dozen little necks for breakfast?

I see no reason not- let’s stop and see.

So, after stopping to pick up some shrimp and clams and crab from Tony- the guy that always has the best seafood in his side of the road stand.. Grab some ice, pack the cooler- away we go.

Woo Hoo- the Clam Shack opens at 9:00.. well hell yes we’re having a few dozen steamers for breakfast..

Just prior to Williamsburg..

Mom?

Yes?

We stopping for BBQ?

It’s a little early for lunch son.

Please???

OK-

Pit stop for a little pulled pork- one with, one without, thanks.

Crawling up 95- the highway from hell.. after a million years of cruising at 2 MPH the lad spies the exit sign for Culpeper.

Mom?

Yes Honey?

Culpeper, that’s where the nice Thai place and the good French bakery are, right?

Yep- that’s it.

Can we stop?

No Buddy, way too far out of the way and we’re in traffic hell here as it is.

Long pause..

OK.

Mom. There’s another BBQ place on the way home before Aunt Baby Sister’s isn’t there?

Yes son, there is.

So that would be snack time, right?

Yep- I expect so dear…



Who am I to deny the boy his pulled pork?


Mom?

Yes dear?

Are we stopping for peaches and tomatoes?

I expect so son.

If I don’t make a mess can I eat a few in the back seat?

Sure, just wipe up the mess baby.

Pit stop to see old Mr. Claude.. who was probably farming when Moses was a teenager.. At 84 still runs the stand and has left the farming to the progeny. Holds no truck with “pess-di-sides” unnatural he claims. Oddly he always remembers us and is the sweetest old dude around. Peaches, tomatoes, corn.. It’s all good. The universe is kind sometimes- he pulls out a bit of the Prosciutto of the south- for real country ham. I damn near faint.. No offense to those nice folks in Smithfield- but the real damn deal. Put up old school, by a man with the talent- Not allowed by law to sell it, but for a regular, a little lagniappe.. Oh hell yes! Thank you, thank you thank you!!!!!!!!! Died and gone to heaven, thank you very much.. The mind reels with the thoughts of what the contents of the cooler and the trunk (minus the 2 weeks of the Hurricane's dirty laundry) will bring forth. Oh help me, I feel faint!!!!!!!!

The remaining 40 miles or so are spent plotting what to do with the plunder-

Life is sometimes kind..

It’s good to have my little buddy back.


P.S.- Oh, the injustice..the damn stove completely freaked out on me tonight and is now dead- In the middle of broiling glazed salmon steaks-

ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hysteria commence!!!!!!! I can live without a phone, the TV, the computer.. but no stove?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.. And the damn thing is a fucking month out of warranty. Breathing deeply, trying not to descend into total hysteria,

Someone up there hates me, I swear..

My State Representative- the MORON

Doesn’t read the Bills.. Yep- Quoted in the paper.. He doesn’t have time to read all the bills. Well I’m not all that shocked- but I am pissed about one in particular.

The mis-guided Virginia Transportation Bill of 2007- which has turned into a shit storm if there ever was one. It is however highly amusing that a small town lawyer and town councilman from the hinterlands is the one that BROKE THE STORY TO THE LEGISLATURE! Nope, not kidding. And did it in a tiny little local free rag, and from there it spread..

The story, for those of you that don’t given a damn about Virginia politics goes as such. Bad, idiot Republican Governor that put one of the most fiscally conservative states in the union into the red for the first time since the depression screws everything up. Resulting Democratic Governors, fighting an uphill battle with a Republican Legislature moves heaven and earth to balance what prior moron fucked up without taxing us to death. Yes run on after run on, forgive me I’m pissed.. Anyhoo here we are in 2007 facing horrid transportation issues, schools and social services are getting screwed royally and here we are facing a big cluster fuck in the transportation infrastructure that’s been on the horizon for a couple of decades or more.

Humm, then we have a brilliant idea from Fairfax County (who ya thinks getting most of this cash?) Delegate David Albo- wait for it.. yep his firm is one of the largest volume defenders of serious traffic offenses in the state. They quite literally wrote the book- No for real “Defense of Serious Traffic Cases in Virginia”- not kidding. Civil fees. Yep the Civil Remedial Fee Statue that rode in on this piece of shit legislation- drivers in the Commonwealth face fines from $800 - $1050 for infractions from driving on bald tires to exceeding the speed limit. Yep- you aren’t reading wrong. Some poor old dude that is retired and working at McDonald’s to afford his wife’s medication (because we all know how well that Part D thing worked out) faces a fine if his poor old self gets stressed and he’s running late for the breakfast shift and speeds. $1050.00 is a fair amount of money to me- how devastating is it for the old guy???? And get this- judges cannot- CANNOT commute, suspend or amend these fines. But you out of state folks are safe, because it’s a special fine, just for us legal residents of the Commonwealth.

Oh yes boys and girls, it gets more amusing. Our aforementioned small town lawyer gets bent, demands a copy of the “remedial fees” from the VA Supreme Court- and calls every damn delegate he can get on the line- theoretically the legislature claims they had NO access to this document prior to signing this bill and had no idea what the amounts of these fines were.. What? The Tooth Fairy brought it?? Umm.. huh? Small town lawyer busts the news as to what these asshats have foisted on the citizens of the Commonwealth and the universal cry is “WE DIDN’T KNOW!!” Huh, you signed a fucking bill into legislation without having a clue as to the impact? Court clerks are freaking, Judges are mad as hell, and we can’t do shit about it till next session.

Small town lawyer publicly offers to defend any citizen of the town or county that gets nailed with one of these pro-bono.

See, all lawyers aren’t assholes.. You go Tom!

My (Next) Brilliant Career

So, having given this a great deal of thought.. I am good at few things. I am one hell of a cook- but catering takes the joy out of it for me. Line bitch memories perhaps? Growing up in a restaurant, prior catering business? Whatever- it takes the fun out of it. Parties and weddings- now I can throw one hell of a bash. I am quite well known for throwing a hell of a party and a pretty swell wedding. Humm, middle of Ruburbia -yeah well nice idea, but.. Personal shopper- gotcha covered! Yep, see prior great idea. I can run one crackerjack of a medical practice, kinda fried on that actually.

So I realized while finishing up the foyer- there are some very weird names for paint. I mean seriously strange! Smoked Oyster? I have consumed a lot of oysters, smoked and otherwise.. none of which bore any resemblance to the wall shade I chose. Country Club? Been to a few of those, not seeing it as the shade in the upstairs bath. Black Suede? OK it was actually black so why not just call it black? The guest room and Miss Thing’s hole are Parisian Taupe. The French have some special tone all their own? Ah ha! Someone in each of the companies spends their entire working day thinking up silly pseudo prosaic names. I have to get a gig like that! What do they call it? Corporate Vice President of Naming? Prosaic Bullshit Spouter?

Shoes. Shoes have names as well. Someone gets paid to name the shoes! The Carolyne, the Jackie, the Galliano is Crazy.. OK, that job I really, really want. Bags- yep they have someone doing that too.. Is there some special degree track for this? Some specialized form of in-house training one can latch on to at the right company? I presume I could telecommute? It seems pretty obvious there are indeed people out there actually getting paid money for this for crying out loud! I just want to get in on the action.

If any of you brilliant people can shed any light in respect to how I need to go about this, please do drop a line!

Impeach the whole damn lot of them..

So- thus far I have avoided political commentary here, mainly because there are other people out there that do a far superior job than I can.. But I expect that anyone who has read my commentary elsewhere has a pretty good idea of where I stand. This little corner of the virtual world thus far has just been sort of a safe place for me to process all the weird that's been going on in my little universe here of late.. let off some steam as it were. Also, I was accustomed to being around an ongoing parade of people every working day, y'all are way more entertaining, trust me!

Anyhoo.. I find my disgust at the current state of affairs growing to an ulcer inducing point- so even if it happens a month before the Shrub leaves office, it's the principle of the matter. Personally I still feel the International War Crimes Tribunal is more appropriate, but you gotta start somewhere after all-

Y'all go on over and up the count to a million pissed off souls that don't want to take it anymore!

And Tater and Lynette, y'all need a place to stay- you're welcome.. I'm a little ways out, but we'd have fun.

Do it NOW-

Make with the clicking folks- only 5 days before the money grubbing crooks subvert the First Amendment YET AGAIN!

The List

You know the list.. the never ending list of shit to do? Well, now that I’m only semi employed I figured I could somehow make a dent in the mass of crap that needs tending to here at Casa de Locos.. Not so much. And you’re asking yourself why the hell is she on the damn computer then? It’s OK, I know you did.. My semi employ at this point constitutes a LOT of time on hold. Not just hold or infinity hold, we’re talking totally ignore here people.

So while investing my time in tuning out the bad elevator music, I tend to do other things… pop in a load of laundry, clean off the desk- hell I’ve been known to vacuum- Aren’t cordless phones about the best invention ever?? But often I have to stick closer to the desk as all the specifics of why I’m bitching at the insurance company on the other end aren’t quite as portable. So I check in on the cool people in the blogosphere, among other things. OK- justifications for slacking finished- on with our regularly scheduled blather for the day.

I tend to be one of those people that really does need a list. Without a certain amount of structure I flounder, but mainly because there’s so damn much of it.. but it becomes a self defeating prophecy after a while. Especially when you realize you really don’t seem to be making the type of progress you expected. Turns into a bummer of sorts actually. I try to remind myself any sort of progress is something after all. So after getting annoyed with myself I decided it was all in how I am approaching it mentally. I do sometimes have the habit of being an “All or Nothing” kind of gal- so perhaps I need to lower my expectations a wee bit. Break it down into more manageable chunks.. and step back and look at what DID get done.

Hah! Cross off a big one- YAY ME! I got the damn stairwell painted! Why, you may ask is this fool so pleased with herself about this? A little over a year ago, I banished carpet from the Casa. Dogs and kids, in the midst of red Virginia clay? There’s a set up for a housekeeping ulcer. Wanted hardwood, but realized the dogs would trash it within six months. My big boy weighs as much as I do and the little girl is a skittery sort- claw havoc would be quite destructive. So we went with a top of the line laminate. I love this shit! It’s damn near indestructible and is actually quite attractive. The problem? To do the stairs the original bull nose had to be cut off the treads, so the stairwell had these lovely holes that had to be puttied out and so forth. The contractor did a less than stellar patch job, so I had to chip the old stuff out and re-do the whole shebang.. And I am admittedly really, really anal about things like that. Boots claims I’m the Adrian Monk of house painting. Well, I’m a big girl, I can admit it, I am exactly the kind of freak that paints the top of the door frame- on the inside of the closet.

Fully realizing this would take me forever, I put it off. And put it off a little longer. But it annoyed the hell out of me every time I walked through the front door. I am mildly embarrassed to admit it took me a week.. After getting a level surface I finally painted the trim black and put in the groovy little black corner catchers. Yes black- trust me it works with the light blond maple color.. Yipee! Oh shit- now I have to get the rest of the trim painted before the leviathan couch arrives.

See, it never ends..

Pass it On

Well I guess this is the internet version of psychological profiling?

Let's see- Tater and the other nominees beat me to all the obvious smart folks, and how the hell I got into that company totally mystifies me. OK , perhaps I'm just being a lazy ass. Cowbell beat me to Redneckmother and most of the stuff I generally read already got the meme so here we go-


Erin at Dress a Day- Read the Secret Lives of Dresses, this woman is an amazing writer!


Greenlotus at Japonisme. The depth of knowledge on the subject is astonishing. Whenever it's an ugly day, I head over to look at the beautiful.


Eric three thousand he either cracks me up or makes me think.

Much like Tater- I'm leaving it at three (yep, cheater!!!) But look for some new linkey love soon!

So to those folks I read - pass it on and thanks for the enjoyment you're given me!

The linky thing isn't working for techno tard and her Mac.. sorry kiddies- but all three are worth a visit- swear! Update- techno tard and her Mac may have figured it out.. Imagine that!

And for you folks that I tagged, just drag the little guy over and spread it around..

Well Thanks!

Well, I'm speechless y'all. The one and only Tater went and nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award. I'm genuinely touched, especially coming from you Tater honey.. genuinely, all kidding aside. And since you already did the Sally Field gag, guess I'll have to settle for being sincere in my thanks and express my amazement.

I'm gonna do a minor cheat however and spread my nominees out for y'all tomorrow- as this will require some actual thought. I just got home from a weekend at the shore with the Beast, partying with some good friends sans Miss Thing. Now I'll grant you, at our age, we ain't exactly partying like rock stars or anything people.. did too much of that when we were younger. More hanging on the deck with good food, good wine and good friends and talking and laughing all night long. But it does pain me to admit staying up till all hours now requires a nap the following day.

Reminds me we need to see the old friends far more often than we do, and makes me happy that we're lucky to have such great people to share our lives with. Anyone that held your hair in a bathroom for an hour when you were 20, and still loves you when you're 45 is a total keeper in the friend department. Let's see, we all went from dancing in the clubs and doing *ahem* substances in the corner to dancing in the kitchen while we spend a few hours putting together a monster dinner.

Merely proves my theory that in it's own way, the universe truly is self leveling