Archive for October, 2011

I was sitting on the chaise/lounge couch thing by the window in my living room, playing one of those block puzzle games on my super duper smart phone, and got an idea to Google something, I don’t recall what, and reached over to grab my phone off the window sill to find that it wasn’t there.  So, I was looking for my phone which I couldn’t find anywhere because IT WAS IN MY HAND.

I am witless, people.

Rabbit and I were watching X-Files the other night… Again. It’s what we must do because there are 9 seasons and being on season 8 we’ve still got a season and a half to go, and then the two movies, before we can concentrate on anything else.  I would say that it’s getting old but it’s not and it has actually given me a new appreciation for weird. And I liked weird BEFORE I started watching the X-Files.

So, like I said, we were watching the X-Files and I was so tired and my ankles and heels were throbbing because I hurt them running and I was just sitting there not saying much at all and finally Rabbit turned to me and said, Are you okay? And I said, Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. And he said, Oh. Because you’re very witless tonight.

Now, I’d heard the word witless before but couldn’t recall in what context so I asked Google.


Apparently my husbands opinion of me isn’t what I thought it was.

So, either Rabbit thinks quiet = stupid or he didn’t really know what he was saying which I’m guessing is the latter because, while I’m silly and random, I’m no fool…  I don’t think.


No. Never mind. I’m just going to stop now.

Update: I just looked up fatuous. It means pointless and I’m never looking up a word ever again.

Conversation Rabbit and I had while we were watching the X-Files the other night.

Rabbit: Hey, they have a lawn jockey.

Me: I think those are supposed to mean something bad. Or they use to. Or they didn’t but now they do.
         Sometimes I feel like I don’t really know anything.

Rabbit: I don’t think that one means anything bad.

Me: Speaking of… I really think it’s time I get a statue or something for the garden.

Rabbit: You are NOT putting a unicorn in our yard.

Me: What is it that you have against unicorns, anyway? Did you have a bad experience or something?

Rabbit (shaking his head): You are so weird.

Me: At least I’m not a unicorn hater.

Rabbit: Whatever. You’re still not putting a unicorn in the garden. 

Me:  [sigh]

Rabbit: But… you can have a narwhal.

Me: Oh my goodness, YES! That is the BEST idea because they’re like the unicorns of the sea!  And we live at the beach! Your wisdom astounds me sometimes, baby.

Rabbit sighed and shook his head again, almost imperceptibly.

Now, I know Rabbit only said I could put a statue of a narwhal in our garden because he is fairly certain that narwhal lawn ornaments don’t exist. However, I’m pretty sure that if I look hard enough I will find one and if I don’t I’m going to make one myself and I am going to put it in the garden and Rabbit is going to cringe but I’m going to remind him about our conversation, which is now DOCUMENTED.

This is going to be great.

How does one make a garden statue, anyway?

When you buy your sweet baby girl her first giant pink bouncy ball at Walmart and your super helpful son throws it into the back of the van and it bounces off the seat, over his head, out of the van, and into the parking lot, and you go chase it because it’s what you must do and the wind is blowing and this giant bouncing thing keeps rolling right out of reach whenever you bend down to grab it and the whole thing looks like a Groucho Marx joke only in color…

And you think, I can’t believe I paid $2.50 for this.

Read about this on Twitter this morning and just HAD to pass it along.

It seems that Westlake Ace Hardware is one of the few stores out there taking the impending zombie apocalypse seriously, however, instead of marketing just to the living during the dark time, they have turned their product promotion towards the infected as well, who, coincidentally, will make up the vast majority of the population.

That’s some kinda smart, I’d say.

The Rabbit does not understand this whole zombie thing.  I have no idea what has happened to him. Maybe he got some kind of infection that comes before zombie infection. Like he’s PRE-infected. Is that a thing?

Him: So, what is your fascination with zombies all about?

Me (did I really hear him correctly?): …   Hello… Zombies, dude.  They’re ZOMBIES.

Him (shaking his head): I just don’t get it.

Me: This is a sad day.  I may have to slay you later.

So , I guess it’s up to me to prepare the family for what is coming. Good thing I’m taking this whole thing seriously. And thanks to Westlake Ace Hardware, this job just got easier.

I went back to the base thrift store this morning to pick out my used goat. I had added a sea bag onto my thrifty list because the Rabbit seems to have misplaced his and they’re, like, $70 new so I definitely wanted to snag him a $10 from the thrift store.

When I first  got to the store they didn’t have any sea bags but sometime between then and when I walked up to checkout that they had found one and it was on the back counter because they have rules about who they can sell them to – only to active duty or for active duty - and I was like, Ya-yuh! and was fully prepared to snatch it up until I was intercepted.

This man came waltzing right past me and spoke boldly out of turn to the lady who was walking up to check me out. He wanted that sea bag. She then proceeded to act as if I wasn’t standing there at the counter.  However, I knew I had nothing to worry about because he was definitely not active duty so that was good for me, right?


She told him he couldn’t have it but the guy wouldn’t give up and proceeded to sweet talk her while she continued to ignore me and she seriously ended up selling the bag to him because his college-aged son just wanted one, while I stood there with my mouth wide open because my Rabbit IS active duty and NEEDS a sea bag.

After the guy left I told the lady, in the nicest way possible, that that sea bag was supposed to be mine and she kindly told me that I could drive over to the other base and see if they had any but it’s an hour away and I don’t think so.

It’s not that big of a deal, I know, but it sort of just lit my britches on fire for brief second. Lucky for them I was too tired and sore from torturing myself running to make much ado about it.

And I did find a very excellent pair of shoes that had never been worn. One dollar, people.  Hard to beat that kind of sweetness.

How running works

Here is a rundown of how my week has gone so far.



Gabe went with me on day 3, which was today. He was faster than me.

And he was walking.

Because it’s good to know…

I filled out this little questionair. You should probably do it to and tell me your results because I’d really like to know how I would stack up in this situation.

The Zombie Bite Calculator

Created by Oatmeal

Finally. This is what I’ve been looking for for, like, EVER. 
Plus, I’ve always said the government should be in the used goat business.

And how can I NOT pick up my own hand-me-down goat? You’re right. I CAN’T not.

This is making my whole day, people.

Moving is awesome.  But only if you enjoy the feeling of being stabbed repeatedly in the the head with a table leg. Then feeling better. Then being stabbed again. Then having this happen over and over again so much that any time somebody mentions the word moving, or move, or box you duck, cover, curl up into the fetal position and gently cry, I don’t want it, I don’t want it, again and again.

We moved more than 2 months ago. The government paid for this because we were moving into base housing and so the movers came to our house and threw everything in boxes and then drove to our new house 10 miles away and threw everything out of the boxes and broke some junk.  They KNEW they broke stuff and didn’t even tell me. Also, they packed their cigarettes in with my toiletries (I don’t smoke), left bottles laying around with spent cigarettes in them (again, I don’t smoke), and left trash all in my yard at the old house and at this new one. Also, they failed to fully unpack us and I had to call and complain for them to come back and finish.
Yeah. I know.
Before the moving team left, head mover guy left me with some claim forms to fill out incase we found damaged goods. He said that I was not to file the claim with the Navy but I was to send the claim to the mover’s office – to the address on the form – within 70 days. About two weeks ago, on day 58, I had my claim forms filled out and ready to go and I called the company to make sure I was doing everything right. The call went something like this.

Me: I have my claim form ready and want to make sure that I’m sending it to the correct address.

Her: You don’t send that here.  You have to send that to the Navy.

Me: The moving guy said to send it to you guys.

Her: Oh posh. Those guys don’t know anything.
She was kind of chuckling.

Me: Oh.
I wasn’t surprised by this announcement.

Her: Look in the upper corner of the form. There should be an address. You are to send the form to that address.

Me: Okay.
I rattled off the address really quick.

Her: Oh. That’s our address. I guess you’re supposed to send the form here.

So I did. And I heard nothing back. So, on day 70 I called them to make sure they did receive it because, dang it, I was getting my full value replacement costs.  And here is how that conversation went.

Me: Hello. I sent in a claim form two weeks ago and wanted to make sure you received it.

Her: The claims person is out of the office until tomorrow. I can take a message.

Me: Well, today is day 70 and I really need to know that y’all received my form.

Her: Hold on. I’ll peek on his desk.

Me: Thanks.

Her: Yes. We received it last week, however, this isn’t the right form.

This is how wars get started, people.

Not only did head moving guy AND the gal on the phone both tell me to send in THAT SPECIFIC PAPERWORK, but apparently Mr. Claims Guy had my paperwork, my WRONG paperwork sitting on his desk for more than a week without calling me or anything about me needing to fill out and send in a different form.

And why did the mover give me the wrong form in the first place?  Was it because he knew the piano was broken? The full size electric concert piano with weighted keys that we bought USED for $750?

Well played moving guy. Well played.

But I’m still getting my money.

Today, after yet another call to the mover’s office, I got the new form they mailed to me filled out and in the mailbox but who knows what’s going to happen next. Because the only thing I’m absolutely sure about right now is that all six of my boys will look at me with slack mouths when I ask them who is responsible for the soaked dish cloths left in random places. Like in the corner of the hallway, in the downstairs bathroom, in a ziploc baggie under the kitchen sink….

And why?