tuesday: a list

1. woke up early in order to arrive at MOPS on time.
2. showered. noticed hair in left armpit was considerably longer than hair in right armpit. realized i went to the water park on saturday with one clean-shaven armpit.  am classy.
3. got all the short people up and dressed and out the door. while speaking kindly. 
4. got pulled over for speeding (42 in a 30). you locals know where the BPD sits on Law Street? the curve? where the cop ALWAYS IS???? yeah. there.  am awesome.
5. was late to MOPS. again with the *am awesome*.
6. bought cider and cider donuts for lunch.  may have eaten four, stopped counting after two. what?
7. pawned short people off on grandma to have grown-up time with my dear friend.  wiped her kid's nose with my thumb and forefinger, wiped it on my shirt.  still wearing the shirt. am *totally* awesome.
8. picked raspberries with Wee Man. 
9. walked to the corner store to buy yellow (gah!) American (gah!) cheese (no, it's not!!!) for dinner.
10. went back to MOPS to watch other people's kids. you know how i feel about other people's kids. actually *am* awesome.
11. did some grocery shopping, which included a pint of Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. because this tuesday was just *that* awesome.

you can't take me anywhere.

The short people got a birthday party invite that involved driving to another state to ride waterslides, two things of which I am not a fan.  I whined and complained and finally put on my big girl panties bathing suit and drove them there, because while I am an admitted whiner, I am not really that much of a jerk to unallow a birthday party.

And yes, all my whining was for NAUGHT because the place was tons of fun.  I saw a lot of unnecessary butt crack, and had all sorts of people up in my space, but not even that could dampen the fun of the water park.

Do you like how I made a joke there?  About dampening fun? At a water park?  

Fine.  I know I'm a little bit lame... alright, a lotta bit lame.

HB is not tall enough to ride the big slides by himself, so I got to chase him up 200 steps to the top of all the slides whilst lugging a 20 pound floaty thing that we would then sit in and be whisked away to certain death fun TIMES ELEVENTY BILLION.  I lost 20 pounds.

Also? I partially lost the bottom half of my too-large bathing suit.  Thank GOD HB was sitting on my lap and thereby keeping the front part of the bottom half of my too-large bathing suit WHERE IT BELONGS. 

The place has a No Food You Don't Purchase Here policy, which is the sort of thing I generally disregard as being on the bastardish side of things.  The sum total of us was 11 short people and 3 tall people, and none of the kids had consumed any beverage other than hyper-chlorinated pool water for four hours, and I was doing the math for purchasing 14, $2 bottles of water and it made me feel like I'd been drinking hyper-chlorinated water for four hours.

So I went across the street to the good ol' gas station and purchased a gallon of milk and a gallon of water and a pack of 50 cups, and marched them into the water park whist wearing a friendly smile, and beveraged up those short people.  Also, I brought in two bags of chips (it was really hot and I'm sure the short people had sweated a ton and needed salt), and my picnic basket with the makings for peanut butter and jelly and half a dozen apples.

I made sandwiches and poured drinks and the short people were just about filled up when the Reservations Manager came pounding over to our table.

There's no outside food allowed, he said in his most serious voice.

Okay, I'll clean this up, I replied, in my most adorable voice.

Fine, he said, in his most serious voice.

Thanks for stopping by, I said, in my most adorable voice.

The other mamas looked at me like I was going to get kicked out.  

I told him I'd clean it up... I didn't say I'd stop feeding the kids, I said in my most naughty voice.

The other mamas looked at me like I was going to get kicked out, and also like I was a little bit crazy.

We went about our business, and slid on more slides and inevitably the short people were thirsty again, so naturally they had some more milk and water.  And naturally, Serious Voice Man came back.  Unfortunately, I wasn't there to be cute with him, so one of the other mamas took over.

Is that your stuff? Serious Voice Man asked, gesturing to a large table covered in everybody's stuff.

Some of it is, the other mama replied.

Do you think you could at least do me a favor and HIDE THE FOOD? Serious Voice Man asked.

What food? the other mama asked.  Oh, that.  Sure.  Consider it hidden.

She tossed a towel on the milk jug.  Serious Voice Man walked away, apparently satisfied because he didn't come back. 

And we all lived happily ever after.

I know that was not the actually right thing to do.  But also not the right thing to do?  Charge people an arm and a leg for completely disgusting and inappropriate food choices after spending a butt load of money to get into a place.  The short people would have been a huge tornado of disaster if they had nothing to drink but soda all day... and there wasn't a drinking fountain in the place.  

yep.

up and up tampons, now with arrows.
just in case you forgot what you were doing.

and then there was *this* guy

I went to WalMart.  I didn't want to, I swear.  I only go there when I have a very specific list of items I require and when not all of those items are available at Right-Wing Target.  

The list:  fresh ginger, white labeling stickers, canning jars.  Right-Wing Target does not carry fresh ginger.  The grocery store might not have had any stickers.  Do you see my dilemma?  WalMart it was.

Oddly enough, the short people and I made it alive through the store *and* found the items on the list *and* my head did not explode.  Also, one of the employees remarked to me that my people were the best-behaved short people who had been in the store all day.  

Score.

And then we got to the checkout.

Ahead of us was an early thirty-ish woman, a little bit shorter than I am (I'm about 5'6"), about 50 pounds heavier than I am (ahem, and no), with glasses and a very unique hairstyle.  I'm using the term hairstyle very loosely here, and that is something coming from me, because my hairs are not having any of this styling nonsense.  She was rocking the Ponytail With The Buzz Cut Underneath.  Which is fine for some people, and she apparently really pulled off the look.  She was also purchasing one of everything that WalMart had to offer.

The cashier was male, about six feet tall, weighing in around 275, and looked like he spent the entire summer, in all its sunny beautifulness, locked in a basement playing Duck Hunt.  Or at WalMart, earning the well-deserved title of SLOWEST CASHIER ON THE PLANET.

The cashier asked PonyBuzz for her driver's license.  He carefully examined it, and then said some garbled nonsense, the only part of said nonsense that made any connection with my brain was YOU ARE MUCH TOO OLD TO...

I was completely distracted from the pretty candy bars next to me.  My head snapped up.  My face did the OH, NO YOU DI'INT.  Pony Buzz and I looked at each other, our eyes locked in the solidarity only outraged women can know.

And then he said it again.

So I asked, Did the phrase 'you are much too old' just come out of your mouth?

He looked at me stupidly, and nodded as if that sort of garbage was commonplace.

I said, Did anybody ever tell you that you should NEVER, EVER, EVER tell a woman she is much too old?

Obviously not, which was evidenced by his EXPLAINING HOW PONYBUZZ WAS MUCH, MUCH TOO OLD for blahblahblahblah...

He's defending himself, I said to PonyBuzz, who wore the look of someone who was just about to be vindicated.

There are a few rules in this lifetime. The first is never get involved in a land war in Asia.  The second is never tell a woman she is old, and especially do not tell her she is much too old.  

The man was just plain baffled.  But PonyBuzz walked away with her head held high, knowing that the (clearly much older) mouthy lady with the cart full of kids and canning jars had her back.

Apparently that dog was much too old to learn a new trick.

checking in

Hi.  It's me.  Pamela, remember?  I write here sometimes, except for when I don't, which has totally been the case lately.  

Here's what I've been doing:  CANNING.  Like a crazy person.  What have I been canning?  I'll tell you.

Cherries.  25 quarts of pie filling, 10 pints of jam, and tons of boozy cherry molasses and rum-soaked cherries.

Blueberries.  11 pints of jam, 3 quarts of vinegar.

Rhubarb.  16.5 quarts of pie filling, 20 pints sauce (rhubarb + sugar = sauce)

Zucchini.  26 pints relish, 8 quarts sweet pickles.

Dill Pickles.  20 quarts, 7 pints. 

Peaches.  21 quarts canned in light syrup, 7 pints chutney, 7 pints jam, 14 quarts pie filling, 7 pints peach syrup.

Tomatoes.  52 + quarts canned, 33 quarts sauce.

Onions. 6 quarts pickled.

Dilly Beans. 10 quarts.

Beets. 10 pints pickled.

Salsa. 58 pints.

Roasted Red Peppers. 10.5 pints pickled, 6.5 pints spread.

Beer Mustard. 4 pints.

Cranberry Mustard. 4 pints.

Grapes.  17 pints jam, 9 quarts + 1 pint pie filling, 10 quarts juice.

Apple Butter. 10 pints.

Applesauce. 37 quarts.

Hot peppers. 10 quarts, 17 pints.

Honeyed Yellow Tomato Butter. 6 pints.

So yeah. Why have I not been blogging?  Because I am the little ant who wants to sit around eating chips and salsa and toast with grape jam and things with tomatoes in them until I have gained ninetyeleven bazillion pounds.  All winter long.

Remind me to tell you the story about The Mister's Totally Awesome Salsa Experience.

The short people are sometimes quite helpful with all the canning.  Just yesterday, Wee Man and HB very nearly cut their fingers off whilst cutting up apples for the applesauce.  HB's take?  Mama, I think chores are making my finger feel better.  And also, Actually, Mama, I think grinding applesauce is very relaxing.  

I love it when they earn their keep.

We started schooling, too, which is a whole 'nother post for a whole 'nother day.  But so far, nobody has died, so I'm calling it a win.

What else... let me think... Elliott had another staph infection, which is really puzzling because I launder his diapers regularly in the prescribed manner, and he ought not to be growing staph THERE.  He's fine, by the way, and we didn't have to do any of this like the last time he had a staph infection.  

And apparently Glee started up again last night.  But I missed it because I assumed it was for people who have put their children to bed, so when I turned the telly on at nine, what I got was a show about a crazy family who produced a very nearly grown adult who did not know a baby needs a car seat.  It was wrong on SO. MANY. LEVELS.

Also wrong?  The "lady" who pulled up next to me at the gas station with her 4 year-old-looking child in the back seat with no booster, and the shoulder strap slicing into his tender throat.  Not actually slicing, just POISED TO SLICE.  Stupid woman.  

So there you go.  A little Dayton Time update.  I'm going to go eat ice cream out of the box and watch some (now) old Glee.  How's about you tell me what's going on with you?

yes, i am still here. and no, i have not drowned in a sea of peaches.

It has been a while since I've had anything to say worth sharing with you, my darlings, and to be honest? I still might not have anything worthwhile to say. 

So... I mentioned I shot a wedding.  It was, as any intelligent person might imagine, a ton of work.  My quads have not burned like that since my senior year of high school when I was the sub for the basketball cheerleading squad.  (Blogger is telling me I spelled cheerleading wrong. Blogger is apparently smarter than Mr. Webster.  Props to you, Blogger.)  It was a ton of work, yes, but it was fun, and they invited me to eat their Amazing Carnivorous and Carbolicious Buffet, and I'm still not quite finished digesting all that meat.   

Anywho.  If you would like to see some of My Work, you can check it here.  

Moving on... The Great Canning Episode of 2010.  It seems I have gone off the proverbial deep end, because I have run out of places to cram my jars full of yummy goodness.  I have reorganized my kitchen, removing all unnecessary items (read: non-home-canned goods), which is pretty much a good thing, but now I can't find my pasta.  And that is what I like to call A Very Serious Problem.  If I can actually follow through on anything besides canning (feel free to insert a hearty laugh here), I will post a list in my sidebar of what I've put up, and I will endeavor to keep it updated.  ENDEAVOR.  Because it's good to have goals, right?  And by GOALS I mean Goals That Do Not Involved Eating Pie Every Third Day During The Winter.  Because it's pretty much a certainty that I have canned enough pie filling to gain 32 pounds between November and April.

It's hard to be this awesome.

Before I went off said Deep End, I was contacted about being a Self-Love Ambassador for The Inner Mean Girl Cleanse.  And I am totally slacking on the Blogging About It portion of my participation.  Week One was all about cutting gossip out of our day-to-day talking.  Fortunately for me, I found myself standing over a canner full of fruit and/or veggies most of the week, and didn't actually have a chance to talk to any other Actual Adults other than The Mister.  So... POINTS FOR ME!!! No gossip here!  

In all seriousness, though, this canning thing has given me a lot of time to think and ponder, and as I had that time alone with myself, I made the choice to say a prayer for each person who crossed my mind.  Nothing huge or deep, just Bless her today, or Give him patience... little things like that.  I have found that saying even the tiniest prayer for someone, whether I especially like them or not, reminds me that we're all human, and we all are in the exact same lifeboat.

Having a little social detox has been helpful, too, because you can't talk about people when you're not talking to people.  I was whining about my social detox back in July, and no, I'm not going to link it, because you all know how to use the ARCHIVES button in the sidebar, right?  I still miss my girls, and no, I'm not turning into some whack-job hermit, we're all just plain busy and stuff, but I have really taken advantage of the opportunity to be with myself and my short people.  (And The Mister, when he's not working.  Of course.)

And here's where I abruptly end my post so that I can sprint to the kitchen and remove 7 jars of tomatoes from the canner...

Thanks for reading.  You have no idea what it means to me.